Posts Tagged ‘ebony’

I remember the first time I tried it. Some of the black guys had been with had wanted to but I’d never wanted to before. Of course, that was what was great about Ben. He’d brought out a whole new side to my sexuality. He’d made me realise I was born to be a white man’s fuck-toy. I’m a 25 year old British black girl of Jamaican descent. My boyfriend, 30 year old Ben, is white British.



Ben was waiting in bed for me as I brushed my teeth in the bathroom. “Honey,” he called out from the bedroom “could you bring me a glass of water please?”



“Yeah, OK!” I shouted back. When I’d finished I crept downstairs to the kitchen, poured him a glass of water and made my way back upstairs. As I stepped into the bedroom, barefoot and wearing nothing but a short, silky pink negligee, I tripped up and spilled some of the water. Ben sat bolt upright in bed.



“I think, young lady, that you’d better get that mopped up immediately!” he snapped.



“Of course.” I answered. and headed to the bathroom for a cloth. I went slowly, my heart racing, knowing that this was the start of some kinky fun. I had no idea, though, just what was going to happen!



When I arrived back, Ben was standing by the bed, naked and with a huge erection. I began to shake in anticipation knowing that he was about to do something fun! I knelt down and began wiping the spilt water up with the cloth. When I had finished, Ben gave a fake cough.



“Now,” he said, sternly “bend over the bed!” I did as i was told and walked over to the bed, leaning forward over it and spreading my legs apart. That way, I was giving him easy access to my pussy, offering it to him on a plate.



I felt Ben walk up behind me. Everything went still and silent for a moment, then there was a searing crack as Ben slapped my arse. It took a second or two for the feeling to sink in, and when it did I gave a little cry of surprise and delight.



“What do you think I should do with you now then?” he asked. I struggled to answer through my heavy breathing. My heart was pounding!



“Please fuck me!” I gasped. Ben chuckled.



“You’d like that, would you?”



“Yes, I want you to fuck me please!”



“I dunno, I might just have to not fuck you as punishment!”



“No, please fuck me!” I cried in desperation “I want to feel that white cock of yours inside me!”



Ben grabbed me by the upper arms and pulled me towards him, standing me up. He leaned forward and whispered in my ear;



“Take this silly little negligee off then and get on your back!” Again, I did as I was told. I turned to face him, and slipped one shoulder out of my negligee, then the other, and let it simply fall to the floor. I then climbed onto the bed and lay on my back, with my legs apart. Ben climbed on after me and lay over me, between my legs, and began kissing my lips and neck. I began to feel my pussy moisten, and as Ben ran his hands all over my body, tweaking my nipples and caressing my thighs, the juices were actually dripping from my pussy and down my arse.



Ben began to rub his dick along the length of my pussy, and I began to breathe heavily, anticipating his thick, white cock sliding into my tight black hole and stretching it……….



With a single powerful thrust, Ben buried his cock balls deep into my arse! I yelped in a mixture of pain and surprise and almost jumped up! I looked at Ben’s face to check if he knew what he’d done, but he just smiled and winked! “You said you wanted my cock inside you,” he laughed “well now it is!”



I lay there in a slight state of shock as he slid his heavenly member in and out of my hole, and as the initial pain subsided, an overwhelming sense of pleasure overtook me. Here was Ben, I thought, penetrating me in such a way as to dominate me even more than ever before! My pussy was well and truly gushing now, lubricating Ben’s cock as it stretched my arsehole.



Because of the position we were in, we could make eye contact. Ben never looked away from me, enjoying every second of watching my face as he sodomised me. He kept it nice and slow, with a rhythm that only slightly sped up as he approached orgasm. He’d pull his cock almost all the way out of me before plunging it back in again.As I saw in Ben’s face that he was close to the edge, I felt my own orgasm drawing near. Ben winked at me again and placed his thumb on my clit, rubbing frantically to encourage me to cum.



As the feeling of euphoria tore through me, Ben plunged his dick deep into my arsehole with a last almighty thrust, and shouted “Oh, shit, I’m going to cum inside your arse!” He let out a satisfied grunt. I could feel his cock twitching as it spilled its seed deep into my bowels. We both lay there, in the throes of orgasm, and as they subsided, Ben gave a little shake to spray the last few drops of sperm into me. He pulled his cock out of me and came up to give me a kiss. I could feel his warm, sticky sperm dribble out of my well used butt as I turned to kiss and cuddle him.



“I love you.” I said, breathlessly. “And I could definitely do that again!” Ben grinned.



“I plan to!” he said.

Chapter One, Sareena.



I was always attracted to exotic and mixed race models, and would use them whenever the client was agreeable. For a start they were different to the girl next door image that most jobs called for, but also I found them more satisfying to photograph. Coloured girls of African descent seemed to have more sculptural bodies and features, while mixed race girls often had lovely skin tones, so much more attractive than the palid skin of the average European model.



Sareena was an eighteen your old mixed race model I had used several times when the client needed a non white girl for their shot. She wasn’t tall, only about five three, but had a sweet young face and a perfect body. When I asked her if she would shoot a nude for me, for my own portfolio she not only agreed immediately but said that she had never posed nude before but she wanted a couple of body shots for her own folio. We fixed up a time for a shoot one evening when we were both free and the studio would be quiet.



When Sareena came out of the changing room she had just a towel around her, and she looked at me rather shyly,



‘I’m feeling a bit nervous, not sure if I can do this.’ she said.I tried to reassure her, and said that if she liked we could start with her keeping the towel and see how she got on. She readily agreed to this so we made a few pics with her standing on the background playing about with the towel but not showing anything. I could see she was getting more relaxed so I suggested we move into the lounge area where she could use the fur covered raised platform.



We made some shots of her kneeling on it facing camera holding the towel in front. I asked her to slowly lower the towel as I shot, and gradually, her eyes on me, she lowered it until her breasts were uncovered.



‘Beautiful!’ I said, ‘you have superb breasts.’



She smiled shyly looking down at them. ‘I wish they were bigger, I’m too small I think.’



‘nonsense, they’re perfect, I must say I prefer smaller breasts to large ones.’



‘But most men seem to like big boobs, I don’t why, they are just as sensitive as big ones.’ she said grinning cheekily at me. And I noticed that her nipples had hardened.



‘ Now do you feel ok to loose the towel?’ I asked.



‘Ok, here goes.’ she said, and let fall the towel exposing all her body to me. The colour of her skin was lovely, a sort of golden light brown, very smooth and sleek. Her young breasts were high, the nipples pronounced and erect, her belly flat and firm, her legs slim, and just visible between her thighs I could see the full lips of her labia. She had removed her pubic hair and her whole body seemed wonderfully smooth, young, and feminine. A body made for sex I thought, and felt a warmth growing in my groin.



In the following hour or so we made about two hundred or so pics. And as we shot she became more and more relaxed and at ease with her nudity. At first she was careful about keeping her legs positioned so her sex was not visible to the camera, but as time passed she lost that limitation and seemed to enjoy opening her legs so that the sweet lips of her young sex were apparent. Her hands too came into play, at first just resting on her thighs or tummy, then progressing to touching her breasts almost casually, then towards the end she was frankly caressing her nipples with one hand while the other covered her sex, but not just covered I noticed, for I saw that her middle finger was moving once or twice, touching the labia and maybe her clitoris.



At last I decided to call it a day, we had got some great shots I was sure, and to be frank I didn’t now how much more I could take, she was just so arousing.



After she was dressed I asked her to join me for a drink at the local, and we were soon settled in a discrete booth with a bottle of wine between us.



‘Well, what did you think of your first nude session?’ I asked her.



‘I was surprised I guess, I really loved it, at first I was nervous then after I got used to it I enjoyed it very much, mainly thanks to you I think, you knew how to put me at ease so well.’



‘Well you looked absolutely stunning, sweet, but sexy, and very erotic. You’ve got that rare thing about you, the ability to project feminine eroticism without effort or looking tacky in any way. Not many girls have that.’She was silent for a moment as we drank to that. Then she turned towards me and asked’Will we do some more sometime, I’d love to, anytime you want, just call me.’



‘I’d love to take some more shots, I’ve already got some ideas I’d like to explore with you. Maybe next week if your free.’



‘I’ll be free on next Monday if you want,afternoon or evening is good for me.’



‘Ok, I’ll call you at the weekend to fix a time.’ I said.



.After we had chatted a while, she said suddenly,



‘Peter, can I ask you something? It’s a bit personal.’



‘Sure, ask away, whatever.’



‘Well, it’s just a thing I was thinking about while you were shooting me, I was wondering what it would be like to be behind the camera, you know, to be taking the pics, how it felt.’



‘Well, I’m not sure how to explain I guess, you’re always trying to make the best picture from the point of view of lighting and composition etc. , but at the same time you’re conscious that it’s a real person in front of the lens, a living breathing woman, and the secret is to combine the technique with the feelings that the woman gives you. Does that explain it at all?’



She stared at me for a while, looking doubtful.



‘Im not sure, maybe a bit. Actually what I wanted to ask was this. Would you let me take pics of you nude, like you did of me. Just so I can see how it feels.’



I was frankly a bit taken aback by that. It never occurred to me that a girl would want to photograph a guy naked, let alone a girl I hardly knew wanting to shoot me nude.



‘Wow! Well you know Sareena, I’m not exactly an Adonis, I’m a skinny 37 year old bloke a bit out of condition. But if that’s ok with you I can’t really say no can I!’



And that was how the following Monday evening Sareena turned up at the studio not only to pose nude for me but to have me expose my own body to her. All weekend I’d been thinking about it, finding the idea more and more attractive and frankly erotic. The idea that she wanted to see me naked, to see my penis, was very exciting, and I found myself looking forward to the moment when I would be nude in front of her.



There was one thing I wanted to ask her before we started.



‘I’ve got just one condition here before I get my gear off for you.’ I said jokingly ‘ I’m ok with getting nude in front of you, but I need you to be nude too, I’d be too embarrassed if you are dressed and I’m naked, understand?’



‘That’s fine with me, it’ll be quite, well, exciting I guess, being nude together!’



I went into the bathroom to freshen up with a quick shower. As I showered and then dried myself my cock was swelling to a semi erection even without my thinking about anything. As if it knew what was going to happen. I wrapped a towel around my waist and went out into the studio.



Sareena was standing waiting for me, she was naked and so beautiful I felt a catch in my breath and my heart start to beat faster. I had set up the lighting and the camera so all she had to do was point and shoot, and I went over a couple of things for her till she was confident she could manage. At last the moment came. I went and stood on the background, facing the camera and the small delicate naked girl.



‘OK,ready?’ I asked her.



‘I am, are you.’ She said with a giggle.



I slowly undid the towel around my waist then holding it but not letting it fall gradually opened it at the front to expose my penis. The camera began to click and the flash fire. I dropped the towel and stood facing her, my already thick and heavy penis began to jerk erect and I looked down at it bringing my hands to the top of my thighs.



Sareena moved closer, and I could see she was centring on my cock.



‘You see Sareena, a guy can’t hide how he feels, unlike you girls where nothing much shows.’ I said.



‘And how are you feeling?’ she said after a moment.



‘Guess!’ I said, and spontaneously my foreskin slid back exposing the engorged glands, a single drop of precum glistened on the tip.



There was something deeply exciting about knowing she was looking, and had wanted to look at my sex. I wasn’t sure how this would end but it was a great feeling, she could see my arousal, and she was loving it.



‘ Turn to one side,’ she said, ‘ just do like you told me to.’ I turned, knowing from that angle she would see the full length of me.



‘Use your hands Peter, do what I did with mine.’ Her voice was husky, almost trembling.



I obeyed her instruction, sliding one hand up my torso to touch my nipples, a thing I always found incredibly erotic, while my right hand slipped down to take hold of my organ. I began to stroke and caress it, looking from the camera to my cock as I did. I watched her at the same time, her slim small body with her high pointed breasts, the curve of her hips, the secret half hidden centre of her sex between her thighs.



For a while we continued, I was becoming more and more excited, but I didn’t want to cum in front of her like that in case she was shocked. I asked her if she would like to do some of me lying down. I enjoyed her shooting me lying down because as she stood over me I could see her sex, and she made no effort to hide it from me.



Then I had an idea I hoped she would go long with.



Sareena, you know what I’d really like to do if your up for it. I’ve always wanted to do some pics of two bodies together, either same sex or opposite, you know sort of abstract like, not showing the whole body maybe, just close ups showing them intertwining, if I put the camera on auto sequence we could do it together, if you want to that is.’



Sareena put down the camera,



‘That sounds like fun. I’d love to. Sort of combined effort. Cool!’



I quickly set the camera on a tripod in the lounge area and adjusted the lighting to be more atmospheric. I then set the sequence option to take a picture every ten seconds.



‘Ok, all ready to go. Let’s do some great pics together.’



‘How do we start?’ she asked, and I noticed she glanced down at my penis that was now at half mast.



‘Well let’s try this, you are standing and I’m kneeling in front of you, sort of kissing you tummy.’



‘That sounds nice.’ She laughed,’just my tummy mind!’



We moved in front of the camera and I knelt in front of her and placing my hands on he waist drew her to me. She was so much smaller than me that my lips were level with her navel, and I gently touched around it with my tongue. The camera started its sequence, I had programmed it for one hour, just in case.



As my tongue touched her skin she flinched and giggled,



‘That tickles.’ she whispered.



I pressed my lips against her abdomen just below her navel and touched again with my tongue. This time she didn’t move or laugh, instead she made a satisfied ‘Mmmmm’. My hands in the meanwhile moved slowly up and down her flanks, then very lightly grazed her bottom and up to the side of her breasts.



‘Oh, that’s so good Peter I heard her murmur. ‘So very good.’



I slid my hands down to cover her buttocks, cupping them, and pulling them towards me at the same time moving my mouth lower down her abdomen, and she groaned softly in delight. She began moving her hips, thrusting gently towards me, urging my mouth lower, but I wanted to make her wait, make her desperate for release, I wanted to excite her until she lost control of her reactions, her body. And the camera clicked away, recording our actions, and our reactions.



My mouth approached the base of her abdomen, only an inch or two away from those perfect little lips, now flaring to expose the pink interior, and her movement became more insistent, her breathing faster. I could smell the exciting and erotic scent of her femininity. And I loved the feeling of controlling this young eager body, the feeling that I could pleasure it as I wanted, that I could satisfy my own lust and needs with it. For as much as I liked Sareena, for now she was just a beautiful body that soon I would enter and plant my seed, that was all I wanted, and all she wanted too.



I stood up and turned her toward the camera and stood behind her slightly to one side.



‘I’ll stand like this baby, just enough to one side to show my cock, put your hands back her.’ and I placed them on my hips. I pressed up against her, feeling her bottom against my thighs, my sex against her side. I felt so good that first contact between our bodies, sending almost like an electric shock between us. I began to move against her, rubbing the hard shaft of my penis against her hips and waist, and she lent back turning towards me, her mouth open to receive mine. Our tongues met and played together, I thrust mine deeper into her eager mouth, tasting her saliva, smelling the sweet fresh odour of her.



My hands explored her body as she pressed back against me. I cupped her small soft breasts in my hands, taking the hard nipples between my fingers, squeezing and stroking them. I had to pull away from her after a while, I could feel the tension mounting inside me and knew if I didn’t stop I would soon be unable to, and would shoot my sperm. There were things I wanted to do before that happened.



I moved behind her and pressed up against her, my cock erect against the small of her back.



‘Like that Baby? Can you feel me, is that what you like?’ I whispered.



‘Oh you feel so good, I love that, so hard, so big.’



I slowly slid my hands down the sides of her body to the top of her thighs, then across to her flat indrawn belly. I pressed and caressed her abdomen moving gradually lower until my fingers brushed the swollen lips of her vagina and she gasped and moaned. Using both hands I gently parted the outer lips, holding them apart, exposing the pink inner lips to the camera that continued recording every ten seconds. I felt the slippery wetness leaking from her covering my finger tips, and I spread it over her lips and inner thighs before the fingers of my right hand approached the core of her pleasure, her clitoris. I moved my left hand up to caress her breasts as my right forefinger found the swollen erect organ of ecstasy. She was a petite girl but her clitoris was more developed than any I had known. It jutted out from between the lips almost like a tiny penis, I could even feel the ridge around the sensitive head on it.



At the first gentle touch she cried out as if hurt, but it was a cry of joy, of pure pleasure at the feeling of another’s fingers on her most intimate part. I softly circled the head, hardly touching it, then moving my fingers down I covered them with her juices that were now leaking freely from her vagina, and covered the clitoris with them, stroking and rubbing more vigorously.



She was moaning continuously now, and her hands reached behind her for my cock, but I wanted something else before she touched my organ.



‘Put your feet apart a bit I told her.’ And then bending my knees I slid my cock between buttocks and thighs. I looked down over her body and saw the head emerge, it was wet and glistening with her juices, and we both watched as the foreskin suddenly slipped back exposing the glands, swollen and turgid.



I began to move my cock back and forwards between her thighs and she put her legs together making them grip the thrusting organ more tightly. My hands were busy on her small breasts, stroking, caressing, squeezing, and from time to time I slid one down her belly to touch her jutting clitoris. And all the time the camera clicked and recorded.



I wanted to try something I had fantasised about before and told her to lie down on her side facing the camera. I lay down behind her in the spooning position. I raised her leg so I could position my cock between her thighs.



‘ I want to put the end of my cock between your labia, is that OK with you.’ I felt I had to ask although I knew the answer.



‘Oh wow! Yes please…I want to feel it there so much.’ She whispered.



Taking my erect penis in one hand I pressed the glands gently against her swollen labia. I moved it up and down at first, not attempting to introduce it further. I could feel and see the turgid glands becoming wet with her juice, and I spread it down the shaft knowing it would make penetration so much easier. Then I parted the lips with it, and pushed just enough to sink the head inside her. Immediately she gasped, throwing her head back, and her right hand moved down to her sex and began touching herself.



That act I found incredibly arousing, and I knew that I had to get my cock right inside her very soon.



‘Do you want me inside you?’ I murdered, my voice tight and breathless. ‘Do you want me to make love to you?’



Her reply was immediate, not only did she want me, she wanted me quickly, her need was matching mine, we were both desperate for the release of orgasm, both our bodies dictating what was going to happen.



She turned on her back ready to receive me.



‘I want you to watch as I enter you, I want you to see.’ I told her as I knelt between her legs. I quickly grabbed a couple of cushions and put them under her head so she could look comfortably down her body, then I moved over her, holding myself up on my hands, then slowly lowering myself until the tip of my cock touched her flaring labia.



I looked down at her, enjoying the moment of surrender. She seemed so small beneath me, her body so slim and fragile looking, brown and warm and soft. And it seemed impossible that this tiny body could receive my sex, would it hurt her I wondered, would she be big enough inside to take all of me?



Then I pushed and thrust, slowly, and without effort the whole length of my thick hard white cock slid into her young brown body, and she cried out loud as her hands gripped my buttocks as she pulled me into her.



Ŵe both knew we were so excited that we could cum quickly. For me the sensation of my cock inside her was unbelievable, and when she lifted her knees and put her legs on my shoulders so I could penetrate more fully I was already loosing control. She was so small underneath me, and her vagina gripped me like I’d never felt with a woman before. It was tight, like a virgin, but at the same time soft, warm, and very wet. I could feel the wetness covering my cock and balls, and on her thighs around the lips, and we both looked down at my thrusting organ glistening with her juices, matting my pubic hair. I wanted to slow it up, anxious that I didn’t cum before her, and withdrew my cock from her body. We both stared at it, it was hard as an iron bar, the glands huge, purple, and it jerked with my heartbeat. The excitement of seeing it seemed to tip her over the edge for suddenly she cried



‘I’m cumming Peter, Oh my God I’m cumming now!’



And that did it for me too. I felt the beginnings of an orgasm building in my abdomen and scrotum, that glorious tingling sensation all over my body. And I thrush my cock deep into her again and began to pound. Dimly I could hear her cries as I thrust and thrust into that soft young body, I didn’t care if I hurt her, all that mattered was to push my cock deeper and deeper. My hands went round her buttocks as I pulled her against me as I thrust, till at last I felt the sperm beginning to flow, and then to shoot, time and time again until I was emptied.



We lay still panting and exhausted for several minutes. Neither of us could speak. I withdrew my cock reluctantly from her vagina, though it was still half erect, and a little trickle of white liquid followed it. We looked into each other eyes.



‘That was amazing, best ever.’ She eventually said.



‘It felt so good inside you,’ I said, ‘ You’re so tight, but I was a bit afraid to hurt you.’

PT 4: Last Time’s a Charm



Viola Jean walked through her new house. She had just unpacked the last box from the move an hour ago. She strolled into her kitchen and prepared a cup of tea. As she waited for the water to boil she reminisced about what she did a month ago. For a few months after the holiday party Patrick had begun dating Trish on a regular basis and Viola was becoming overwhelmed with her emotions. She knew Patrick was fucking Trish, and it didn’t really bother her at first. It was the way he showed her off as if throwing it in Viola’s face. Trish frequently visited Patrick; her laughter irritated Viola like sand in a bathing suit. She’d sit in his office while he would plan a date with Trish and once off the phone with her, he would then have his dick in Viola’s ass.



When she accidently walked in on Trish on her knees with Patrick’s cock in her mouth, she just couldn’t take it anymore. Her eyes welled up as she exited the office quickly. Trish didn’t see her but Patrick did, he knew how Viola must have felt but he didn’t know what she would do next. Two hours later Viola Jean was in the human resources department requesting to be transferred to the firm’s new office in Texas. Her request had to be signed off on by Patrick since she was his executive assistant; Viola forged his signature. She didn’t want him knowing her plans or making an attempt to stop her. She flew down to Texas that weekend, picked out a house to rent and began the move. She didn’t tell anyone at the office about her last day. It was her responsibility to train a new secretary but she knew if she picked a replacement and started training Patrick would find out what was going on so she told human resources that Patrick would pick out and train a new secretary AFTER Viola transferred.



The move was a shock to her family but they had gotten used to the idea quickly. Micheal was excited as he knew the job market in Texas, for his carpentry abilities, would be financially beneficial. Viola had sent Micheal and her sons down to Texas the same week she secured the rental; they had a month to settle in without her.



The month went by quietly and quickly as Viola barely spoke to Patrick. He preoccupied himself with Trish and made no sexual advance towards Viola anymore. For the whole month she found herself in her empty bed thinking of Patrick and masturbating to orgasm. She’d imagine his hands sliding up her petite frame massaging her breasts, his mouth sucking and kissing her flesh. She’d finger herself faster and faster as she imagined him slowly sliding his cock in and out of her asshole. She could even feel his teeth bite her ear as she came in her hand.



On her last day, a Friday, Trish had visited Patrick and he decided to leave early for the day with her. He managed to wish Viola Jean a good weekend before hurrying out the office with Trish. That evening Viola changed her cell number and hopped on a plane to Dallas.



It had now been a full week since leaving New York and she felt free of Patrick, free of the jealousy that seemed to eat away at her and coming to terms with the guilt she felt from lying to her husband. Her tea pot whistled snapping Viola out of her reminiscing. She made herself a cup tea and relaxed on her new plush navy blue couch; she sunk into relaxation mode.



Ding dong



She wasn’t expecting visitors but figured it was some sort of neighborhood welcome committee. It was hot that Friday and Viola Jean had on short shorts and the bottom of her plump ass peeked out of her shorts. Her ribbed tank top clung to her sweaty skin. She glided to her door relishing every step, thinking about how awesome it was that she finally had her own house even though rented it was still a house 2 floors with a front and back yard. She smiled at the fact she wouldn’t have to watch Patrick court Trish anymore. Viola shook her head, took a deep breath and exhaled Patrick out of her system. She missed him less and less and the fact that she didn’t see him made letting go easier.



Ding dong



Viola opened her door. There he was in a striped Ralph Lauren short sleeve polo, black slacks and Oliver Peoples sunglasses grinning from ear to ear. “Mrs. Ramsden. How are you settling in?”



“Patrick why and how are you here?” Viola was shocked and angry but her heart skipped a beat and body trembled.



“It’s actually pretty funny, I went into work earlier this week to find out my secretary now works in the new Dallas branch. Imagine my surprise when human resources told me that I am the one who signed off on your transfer and I also stated that I would find and train a new secretary. So explain something to me Mrs. Ramsden. How did I agree to all of this when I remember nothing? “



Viola Jean shrugged her shoulders.



“Are you going to invite me into your new home?”



“No.” Viola’s eyes met his; he could see the anger and cold in her eyes.



“The Dallas sun has been good to you.” He said admiring the darkness of her complexion. “It’s very sexy and rich like strong black coffee.” He expected a smile but Viola’s face was stern.



“Patrick why are you here?”



Patrick was about to respond when he heard footsteps behind him.



“Uncle Patrick!!” Daniel ran up to Patrick who picked him up instantly. “You came all the way from New York to visit?!”



Patrick nodded and smiled. “Of course I did. I want to make sure my favorite family is all settled down in Texas. Are you a cowboy yet?”



Daniel smiled “Uh huh me and Andrew! Daddy made us cowboys when we first moved here! Right Mommy?”



“Yup. Where’s daddy and Andrew?”



Just then Andrew was running up the porch steps with Micheal following behind.



“Well well Mr. Slater what are you doing here? The New York office can’t live without my wife huh?” Micheal greeted Patrick with a handshake.



Patrick chuckled. “No just my department. How are you? How do you like it here?”



“It’s great down here; always warm, best impulse decision Viola ever made. Come on in, I’ll show you the house.” Micheal lead Patrick into the house. The whole situation seemed unstoppable by Viola so she didn’t say a word when Micheal decided to become a host and invite Patrick into their home.



Patrick was impressed by how nicely decorated the living room was. Viola and Micheal gave the house a modern look; it was kept very neat for them to have children.



“We used a textured paint for the walls.” Micheal said inviting Patrick to touch their freshly painted steel gray walls. It felt like sandpaper.



“Nicely done.” Patrick said smiling at Micheal and then turning to smile at Viola.



She rolled her eyes, sat on her couch, turned on her television, and began drinking her tea. Micheal continued to show Patrick around the house. Viola watched the time intently waiting for Patrick to leave. He had already been there for an hour and according to Viola Jean, he had been there too long 55 minutes ago. Micheal came back into the living room, Patrick was in the kitchen with Daniel and Andrew.



“Patrick is gonna join us for dinner. He said he had some barbecue tips for me that we’re gonna use.” Micheal smiled.



“Micheal don’t you think Patrick would rather be out on the town not hanging around us?” Viola said. Micheal could tell his wife was annoyed.



“Look I know you’re tired and he’s your old boss but he’s a cool guy. Come on, we never really had people over, even when we were in Brooklyn.”



“Besides I can go out on the town another time.” Patrick called from the kitchen letting the couple know he was eavesdropping.



Viola shrugged her shoulders and nodded in agreement with Micheal. What else could she do? Admit that she had slept with her twenty-something year old white boss and became so jealous when he started dating Trish she moved her family across the country?



Eventually everyone relocated to the backyard. The lawn was neatly manicured and that set up a separate area for the boys with a jungle gym and playhouse. Patrick admired the layout that he knew Viola planned. It seemed she made it perfect for her right down to the patio furniture. He sat down in one of the wicker chairs and took in the sight of Viola as she laid out on the chaise lounge. Micheal had come out with a glass of moscato and handed it to his wife; she politely motioned for him to leave the bottle with her. Micheal did so and went back to the kitchen for more bottles.



“I would like to announce something to you two.” Patrick said as Micheal joined them placing the bottle on the table.



“Go ahead we’re all ears.” Micheal smiled.



“Trish and I are getting married.” He smiled ear to ear. He watched Viola’s face. Shock and disbelief quickly flashed across her face as she hid her initial reaction with a phony smile. She raised her glass.



“A toast to you and Trish may y’all be as happy as Micheal and I.” she smiled.



“Congrats man.” Micheal grinned slapping Patrick five.



Patrick smiled back at her as he sipped his glass but he wasn’t amused with the toast and the hidden sarcasm that Viola directed at him. The three continued to drink, Viola ignored the chatter between Patrick and Micheal; she focused on her sons playing as the sun set.



“Boys bedtime.” She called trying to hide her inebriation from the children.



“Goodnight Mom, Dad, and Uncle Patrick!!” they said and unison as they ran into the house heading for their bedrooms.



Viola was on her fourth glass. She was tipsy and annoyed, a bad combination given the situation, as she rose from the lounger and grabbed the unopened bottle of moscato. “I’m heading to the living room.” She slurred as she stumbled into her house. She didn’t open the bottle but sat it on the coffee table as she stretched out on the couch and watched television. The sounds of Michael and Patrick laughing and joking around were like nails on a chalkboard to her. She began to relax as she noticed how late it was getting and knew Patrick would have to go back to his hotel soon. She heard the men enter the house and Michael walked over to her and sat on the coffee table.



“I think your boss should spend the night in the basement. He’s way too drunk to drive.”



Viola twisted her mouth. “Call him a cab then.”



“Why are you being so mean? He’s your old boss I thought y’all got along.”



“Yes at work he is a professional acquaintance him being here is making him a personal acquaintance.”



“Well no matter how you feel about him you can’t just let someone you know go into the streets drunk.”



Viola knew Michael was right. Back in New York she hated when people would leave her house drunk. Most of the time she would let visitors sleep the liquor off so that they are well enough the next day.



“Okay.” She smiled faintly. Michael smiled back and kissed her forehead.



“C’mon Patrick you can stay in the cave we made downstairs.”



Patrick followed Michael through the house and down the stairs to the basement. The basement was dark and Patrick didn’t know what to expect and was hoping it would be somewhat finished and he’s be able to sleep there for the night. As he followed Michael his mind drifted to Viola, her chocolate petite frame stretched out on the couch while she relaxed into her inebriated state. When they reached the bottom of the basement stair Michael flipped on a light switch illuminating the whole basement. Patrick was in awe as the basement looked like a second living room. It was nicely lit with bluish gray walls and plush burgundy carpeting.



“The sofa doesn’t pull out but I’ve fallen asleep on it, it’s very comfortable.” Micheal said as he patted the cream colored plush sofa. “There are towels and a mini fridge down here with water and juice so knock yourself out. I soundproofed the basement so you can blast the television as loud as you want and no one will know.”



“Thanks a lot for this Mike.” Patrick smiled. “I would’ve been alright, I’m not that drunk.”



“Hey it’s the least I could do. Sorry about Viola she usually gets the final word with everything but I couldn’t just send you out tired and tipsy. I can imagine she’s probably just as bossy when y’all worked together.”



Patrick nodded, he couldn’t really agree since whenever Viola even seemed bossy or uptight he’d bend her over his desk and straighten her out.



“Well tomorrow bacon and eggs on me. Have a good night and if you need anything get it yourself.” Micheal laughed as he left Patrick in the basement and headed to bed.



Patrick wandered the comfortably furnished basement. Micheal and Viola seemed to own every gaming console invented. He checked out the mini fridge which was packed with juice and water as Micheal said. He had wasted 20 minutes in the basement and felt it was time to pay Viola a visit.



He slowly crept up the stairs. He could see the soft glow of the television illuminating the house. He walked up to the couch to discover her sleeping. She snored softly, deep in her alcohol-induced sleep. He smiled at her. Her tranquil face was almost childlike. He took in the sight of her from head to toe it had been so long since he’s seen her or even shared the same space as her in a while. He had neglected her to build a relationship with Trish. His eyes traveled along her curves, starting with her petite feet and ankles, along the soft curve of her calf to her toned thighs the white glow from the TV looked nice against her dark skin. Patrick admired her tight shorts, how they hugged her body displaying the curve of her hips, the roundness of her ass and a faint outline of the treasure hidden between her legs. His mouth began to water. Her tank top had ridden up a bit exposing her flat stomach. He never really got to see her stomach; Viola was shy about her stretch marks or ‘wear and tear’ as she called it. Patrick didn’t mind, he liked every flaw she had and wanted to kiss every nook and cranny on her body.



Her breasts heaved with every breath she took constrained in the tank top and bra begging to be released. Patrick’s hands trembled as he knelt before her to get closer. His ears were wide open listening for any sounds of movement within the house. He began to breathe slower and deeper he inhaled her scent of alcohol and sweat mixed with the sweet smell of her favorite lemon scented lotion. He moved closer, his eyes on her mouth. Her thick full lips were slightly parted and moist. He missed sucking and biting on her bottom lip whenever she allowed him to kiss her. He let Viola control how often he could kiss her. She enjoyed it but she explained it to him that every kiss he gave her shook her to her core. Patrick didn’t see it as a bad thing but went along with Viola’s request.



He slid his hand up to her face stroking her soft cheek lightly. Viola smiled eyes closed. Patrick placed pecks of kisses all over her face Viola purred with pleasure. He could feel his body temperature rise as he finally moved in and covered her mouth with his. Her mouth tasted like the sweet moscato they had been drinking. Viola’s eyes remained closed but Patrick could feel her kiss him back. Her tongue danced in his mouth running along his teeth. Patrick slid his hand behind Viola’s head and pressed his mouth harder against hers. Viola’s eyes shot open and she broke the kiss.



‘What are you doing?!” she whispered angrily.



“Kissing you.” Patrick smiled.



“What the hell is wrong with you? My husband is right upstairs, my children are right upstairs!”



“They are all asleep and I thought we should have a little fun since its been so long.”



Viola shook her head in disbelief. She sat up on the couch and moved over to put space between herself and Patrick. He sat next to her but gave her the space she wanted.



“Why did you leave Viola?”



“I wanted a better position with more responsibilities and a better place for my family.”



“I could’ve had the firm give you whatever you wanted, you know that.”



Viola didn’t respond.



“Was it Trish?”



“No!”



“Viola Jean this is me, I know it was cause of her just admit it.”



“Okay maybe it was because of Trish but she’s not the main reason.”



“Then what’s the reason?”



“You, I left because you didn’t really need me anymore for anything. You work fine by yourself, you don’t really need my help, and you aren’t stressed anymore because you have your fiancé.”



“So you think since I’m not fucking you that I wouldn’t miss you if you were gone? I thought I was supposed to find someone else, isn’t that what you wanted? We can’t be together so what was I supposed to do?”



“This conversation doesn’t matter, I’m here, staying here, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”



Patrick nodded and rose from the couch.



“I see.”



“Best thing for us is for you to leave me alone.”



“One more time please? We can go to your basement and have just one more time. I’ll leave in the morning and never bother you again.”



Viola shook her head.



“I’ve missed you Viola regardless of what you think I really missed you. Didn’t you miss me?”



“At first but I got over it, I returned to my life and I’m content. I have a house, a good job, and a family. Is Trish not satisfying your needs?”



“It’s not that. I miss you.”



“You miss fucking me.”



“No. Well yes, but not only fucking. I miss being around you. Like you stated, you’re married I can never have you the way I have Trish but I’d like to have you once in a while just to be close to you.”



Viola Jean rolled her eyes. Patrick kneelt before her and looked into her sad brown eyes and took her small hand into his.



“Come on Viola we can go downstairs. No one will know. Just this once and I’ll leave here before anyone wakes up tomorrow.” He whispered.



A tear from Viola’s eye rolled down her cheek as she shook her head no. Patrick took her face into his hands and kissed her softly on her forehead.



“I understand.” He said as he attempted to smile. He left her on her couch and hung his head in defeat as he headed to her basement. Once downstairs he turned the television on and removed his clothing down to his boxers. He stretched out on the couch wanting to relax and ignore how he was feeling about Viola.



Viola sat there on her couch in the dark. The alcohol was wearing off and she slipped in a state of regret. Patrick’s scent lingered in the air lightly. She smiled to herself as visions of his face begging for one last time flashed in her mind he looked so sweet and adorable especially when sad. She could feel her body temperature rise. It had been a while since they had been together but the situation was so dangerous. The kiss lingered she licked her lips and swallowed she could still taste his saliva. Her thighs ached to wrap around him once more, her pussy begged for an orgasm and her asshole was waiting to be filled by Patrick’s cock the moment he walked into her house.



She got up from the couch and began walking towards the door that led to her basement and hesitated as her hand wrapped around the brass doorknob. Quietly she turned the knob and made her way downstairs. She could hear the sound of the television on but couldn’t tell what was being watched. She tiptoed down the stairs, she figured if she didn’t make noise she had a chance to change her mind and head back upstairs. She could see the back of Patrick’s head but couldn’t tell if he was asleep.



When she reached the bottom of the stairs she cleared her throat. Startled Patrick quickly turned around. The shock disappeared and was replaced with a smile when he saw his ex-secretary standing in front of him. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as her feet helped her walk towards him. Patrick stood up with open arms ready to embrace her. Viola slowed her pace when she realized he was only in his underwear. It had been a while since she had seen him without a shirt. He had slimmed down, his body had become more muscular since she had last seen him. Viola could see his erection tent the thin fabric of his underwear. Without blinking an eye she was in his arms wrapped in the warmth of him. She buried her face in his neck and inhaled deep. The scent of him filled her lungs she missed his scent her tongue slid past her lips and she licked his cream colored freckled skin. When she picked her head up and his eyes met hers.

This story is a repost of the first story I posted on here, there are a few changes here and there; let me know which one you like more.



*Special thanks to Nudels for having an awesome name and editing this story for me.*




It was a warm spring night; I was finally taking the girl of my dreams out to eat. She’s beautiful, smart, fun, kind, outgoing– just all around perfect in my eyes, and her name is Andrea. I arrived to pick her up and she exits her house wearing a light blue blouse that wrapped nicely in all the right places like it was custom made for her body and a with a simple pair of jeans that seemed to be skin-fit as they hugged her curves wonderfully. I tried to conceal my fascination as she enters the car with her usual smile. We headed to our reservation at Southern Flames, a very fancy place. Once we arrive, and after struggling slightly to find a parking space, we take our seats and have a nice chat as we ate our meals. After we’ve had our fill, I paid and we left.



As we are pulling away, I hear her soft sweet voice call to me. “I had a really great time with you today Damon.”



“I had a lot of fun too,” I replied, “So now what do you want to do?”



“Hmm, I’m stuffed, so let’s ride around.”



“Sure.”



After a brief pause for thought I decided to drive around Downtown, Andrea hadn’t been there before, so I decided to show her around. We left the car to explore a little bit. We watched the river as it glistened and flowed calmly past, saw the beautiful city lights at night, everything. But, in the midst of our journey, it began to pour down. What a way to mess up the perfect moment. We rushed back to the car, but only after we had gotten dreadfully drenched in the rain.



“Well, that was fun,” I laughed.



“I know right?” she chuckled. “Shit, I’m so wet, let’s head back.”



“Your place or mine?” I joked.



“Cute, but we can go back to mine. I gotta get out of these wet clothes.”



“Alrighty.”



I began to drive her home, but my mood is a little different than before. I kind of caught a glimpse of her erect nipples through her soaked blouse, and all I could think about during the whole trip was sucking and licking them. If I could just have one opportunity without any awkwardness I think I could rest a happy man at this moment. That very thought alone sent lustful chills up my spine; I had to catch myself before I bit my lip. Then I heard Andrea’s voice talking to me.



“….ok?” she questioned, she seemed a bit concerned.



“Huh? I’m sorry?” I asked, trying to regain my composure.



“I asked if you were ok, you seem a little uneasy.”



“Me? Oh, I’m fine, just thinking…”



“About?”



“Nothing much, just stuff. Nothing major.” I smiled, hoping to assure her I was fine.



“Mhm, so let’s talk about something to pass the time. You pick the topic.”



“Ok, umm” I thought hard, but the only thing that was on my mind at that very moment, no matter how hard I tried was… “Sex.”



That subject seemed to really grab her attention, “Ooh, now that’s an interesting topic. I’ll start.”



“Ok.”



“Are you a virgin?”



I coughed at the randomness of the question, clearing my throat. “Pass.”



“Nuh uh, there’s no passing here mister!”



“I am…” I stated shyly.



“Aw ain’t that cute, I lost mine years ago.”



“Cool, was he worth it?”



“Nowhere near the word.”



“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that, ok, my turn.”



“Ask away.”



“Um, have you ever been seduced?”



“Not to where I’ve been teased, I do the teasing,” she bragged.



“Oh really? We have to see about that.”



“You think you can handle me?”



“You have no idea….” I whisper to myself as I stared up and down her body.



We finally arrive back at her house. She opened the door to let us in and heads upstairs.



“Nice place,” I complimented as I followed her to her room and looked around.



I reached her bedroom and she was walking out as I was walking in. I noticed a towel in her hand.



“Make yourself at home, Sir Seductive, I must take a shower,” she said softly.



“Yes mami,” I flirted playfully.



She flashed a smile and gestured for me to take a seat. I sit on the bed and watch her as she enters the bathroom, she closed the door, but only halfway. I hear her turn on the water and catch a glimpse of her taking off her top. Lust surged through my body instantly. I began to remember seeing her hard nipples under her wet blouse, and now that blouse was removed. My curiosity began to take over; I felt my body rise off the bed and head to the bathroom door. I reach the doorway, and I see her step into the shower. I saw everything she had on—nothing at all.



She began to sing a song, “I am yours, take me. I lose my breath, for you make me. Lust chills me all over, give me your warmth. I am a puppet, work my strings.”



I feel myself lean forward, my movements are not my own. I am not in control. What spell has this temptress put on me without even the slightest touch? My body entered the doorway, and I pull back the veil that blocks me from my goal. There she stood, I was in awe at what I saw, her body, gorgeous doesn’t do it justice, the shower water smoothly cascades down her caramel skin. The look in her eyes was mind controlling, and it was a look not with shock or surprise, but with hunger. Not to mention the mischievous smirk across her smooth pink lips.



“Took you long enough, I almost thought I had to come and get you myself. Welcome to the party Sir Seductive, I’m afraid clothes are not allowed,” she flirted.



“Well, I seem to be overdressed,” I countered wittingly, extending my hand gentleman-like to help her out of the shower.



“That is true…” she answered, taking my hand.



She stepped out of the shower, our lips connected and I melted. Her tongue danced upon mine, welcoming it to play. She moaned as I pulled her body close to mine. She took off my shirt as I unbuckled my pants. She slid them to my ankles and I finished the rest. She was entranced, it seemed something low had really got her attention; it was my soldier at attention.



“Mmm, it looks like you’re nice and ready for me,” she stated as she caressed it.



She dropped to her knees as she admired my thick meat. Then next thing I knew, she began to slip it between her watering lips. I pulled away and tried to stop her but she simply looked up at me and made me reenter as she massaged me with her mouth. I was in complete ecstasy, my head began to spin. My body went numb from immense pleasure.



She moaned as she increased her pace, as well as her depth. Rarely paused to hold me in the back of her throat, and then began once more. In mere minutes I felt my shaft preparing the launch, and that moment approaching faster and faster with every entry. I had no choice but to pull her long black hair to force her head back as I removed myself from her mouth.



She moans as she lunged forward, reaching for one more mouthful, “Aw Damon I was almost done, just a little and I would have tasted your cream filling. Give it back, please?” she pleaded as she licked the pre-cum exiting the tip.



At that moment, I kind of forgot that I was a shy virgin gentleman; I knew I had her, and I haven’t even seduced her yet. A devilish smirk crossed my face; it has always been sexy to me making a girl beg, it’s my guilty pleasure.



“No baby, maybe later,” I responded as I stood her up.



She pulled me into the shower with her and we kissed more, deeper, longer. I added tongue, just to make her melt in my hands as she massaged my shaft. I slid the tip of my tongue down a side of her neck, she shakes and groans softly. I worked my way up to where I started, curling my tongue, she moaned more and shivered.



I grazed my teeth on her neck softly, only to be rewarded with a retrained moan and a whisper, “Harder…” I did as commanded of me, and she screamed out as she gripped my shoulder. It sends chills through me, which made me crave more. I bit repeatedly, in multiple areas, her gasps and moans repeat continuously. I proceeded lower, leaving a trail with my tongue.



I cupped her round breast and closed my eyes as I placed my tongue on the nipple. A sharp gasp exited her as I flicked and curled it. I began to suckle, and her breaths turn to moans slowly rising in volume. I couldn’t help but moan at the reactions I receive, sucking and slurping loudly like a starving newborn. She continued to moan and ran her fingers through my hair, urging me not to stop as the shower pours on us both. So I don’t, I only pause to lick and switch nipples as I go.



She is finally able to catch herself enough to stop me, “Damn, you really have a way with that tongue of yours. Let’s go to the bedroom, I may not be able to stand much longer if you keep that up.”



“Lead the way, my puppet,” I commended in a devilish tone.



She bites her lip as she turns off the water. She stepped out of the shower and grabbed my handle, inviting me to follow. As we leave the bathroom with our bodies soaking wet, we proceed to the desired destination. But as we head there I couldn’t help but watch her plump ass swing back and forth.



“You can stop staring at it now,” she jests, half-looking back at me, “Or how about you smack it and show me how much you like it?”



“Then bend over.”



“As you wish…”



We entered her bedroom and she slowly leaned forward onto the foot of the bed and rocks her hips a little while looking at me. I grabbed her seat and smacked my hand across both cheeks, hard.



She moans, “Mmm, I like it rough. Smack it like that and I might end up calling you daddy.”



“Rough is what I do best, and I’d love to hear you call me daddy.” I grin and smack her ass harder.



“Oooh you’ve gotta earn that title baby.”



“Oh really? I think I can do that.”



I rest the head of my dick against her entrance; she bites her lip as she glances back at me, her eyes gleamed with anticipation. I give her ass one last smack and begin to enter her slowly from behind. She moaned at every inch as I went deeper and deeper. Once I am completely in, I start to thrust deep and slow, savoring every bit of her dripping paradise. She moans softly, but that’s not good enough for me, so I go faster and she raises her volume, much better.



She has a very sexy moan, the kind that could make any man melt instantly. I quickened my thrusts, I wanted more, and she softly grabs the sheets as her moans get louder and louder, it’s still not enough. So I began to pump like a crazed madman, going as hard as I could. She reacted as expected, she starts screaming my name at the top of her lungs, clenching the sheets as tight as possible, and swearing in whatever words she could muster. Our skin clapped together as she screamed, I thrust her frantically like a jackhammer. Her moans signal to me that she is on the peak of her climax and is reaching her release, I stopped abruptly and she collapsed in front of me, trying to catch her breath.



I chuckled, watching her lay there almost lifeless, wondering what I am going to do next. I grabbed her hips and rolled her onto her back. She landed with a soft moan. I grab her thighs and pry them open, exposing her thick kitten as it drips with anticipation. I drop to my knees and lick my teeth in hunger as she lies there like my helpless victim. Wanting more, but unable to take more. I gave her pussy one slow, long lick up the middle between her walls; she moans and shakes as I reach her clit. I make my way back down the same route I came and she shivers at it.



“Ooh shit, don’t do that, I don’t think I can take it,” she confessed in a stutter.



I curl my tongue on her clit rapidly and suck on it, “Good…” I reply.



I insert my tongue into her wonderland, and instantly moaned at her taste. It was pure ecstasy and my eyes rolled back, as did hers. I began to curl my tongue slowly as it entered her more and more; her body immediately began to rock and roll. I start to bob my head slightly, still moaning as I tasted more and more of her cream. I lick her as fast as possible; she grabbed my head and moaned my name repeatedly as I continued to make her my dessert. My tongue begins to dance inside her, moving everywhere at once, I hear her moans and swears reach the highest volume and felt her legs shake as I licked as deep as I could.



Before I knew it, she was saying what I was waiting to hear–”OOH SHIT DADDY I’M GONNA C–”



I keep going, and before she could finish her warning, I feel her temperature rise, her body seizure, and her nails dig into my skull, I loved every bit of it. Then it happens, a great rush of her sweet love juice shoots like a waterfall around my tongue and into my mouth. I moaned at the intense release, she holds a long screaming moan as she explodes and shoves my face deeper between her legs. I licked and slurped up every drop, why waste it? I make sure to get the drops leaking on my chin also.



After her grand climax, she falls flat on the bed and sighs out of satisfaction, “Oh my God daddy that was amazing. You work your tongue so good.”



I gave her glistening shaved cat one more long lick, “Mmm damn, you taste so delicious!”



“Why thank you,” she laughs, still slightly shaking.



“My pleasure, I could eat you forever,” I admitted.



“Um, I don’t think I could handle all of that daddy. You sure that you are a virgin? Your tongue speaks otherwise.”



I laughed at the compliment as I lay next to her.



She turns to me and begins to work my rock hard member in her hand, “Hmm, I still want to know how YOU taste daddy,” she reminded me as she slowly made her way down my body.



“You seem to have come back to earth mami,” I joked.



She chuckled as she slid me into her mouth, “Mhm…”



Her lips begin to wrap around me, and I’m in too much of a lusty haze to resist, I become completely submissive. She shows me her hazel eyes as she takes more and more of me slowly until she reached the limit, she moans as she begins to suck me. I moan right away, unable to speak, I fall to her mercy, and she knows it. She goes faster, my back arches, but the extreme pleasure disables me from moving.



She continues and moans, pausing to deep throat me occasionally as she did earlier then starts back from the top. She goes as fast and deep as she can which forces me to grab her head as my moan volume increases. I was at my peak, only thing left to do is cum, and that moment was rapidly approaching. I pull on her hair and moan her name repeatedly, louder with every breath.



My body falls completely numb as I burst hard inside her mouth. She moans at my release, I think she liked how I taste as much as I loved her taste. She sucks up and swallows every drop, but some seemed to slip past her as it drips down my shaft. She made sure to lick that up as well.



“Mmm, you taste better than I expected daddy,” she admits with a smile.



I faintly chuckle, “Why thank you.”



She crawls on top of me; we kiss one last time to taste ourselves. She lies down next to me; I turn to her and softly slide my fingertips across her bare skin. She closes her eyes and gasps softly, then, with the little resistance she had, knocks my hand away.



“Mm, don’t touch me like that, please?” she whines.



I chuckle and smirk, “As you wish…” I teased.



THE END

PT 3: Holiday Party



Viola Jean slowly rolled her nylons on her smooth and supple legs. She had spent 30 dollars on the single pair of thigh highs just for tonight’s occasion. She attached the nylons to the garter belt Patrick had bought for her a few months ago. She smiled as she thought about how he presented it to her.



“I got you something that will make it easier for me to have access to you.” Patrick told her as he handed her a dainty purple shopping bag.



Viola pulled the black garter belt out of the bag. She admired the delicate lace stitched on the lingerie.



“I don’t wear garters, I like regular pantyhose.”



“Yes but, now I can just bend you over my desk and move your panties to one side and fuck that tight little body of yours without have to pull down your pantyhose. Easy access.” He smiled “The whole process will be more efficient.”



Viola didn’t argue with logic. Since then, she began buying more garter belts, the sexier look not only pleased Patrick but her husband Michael as well. He looked forward to her dressing and undressing herself watching and her as she paid attention to every curve and fold of her body.



It was the holiday gala that her job splurged on every year. Plaza hotel, lavish free food, open bar, and chances to mingle with the firm’s clients, investors and big wigs. Viola got excited every year because it gave her an opportunity dress her family up and show them off to the firm. She had slid herself into a black gown she found at the New York Opera Thrift Store a few weeks ago. Although the gown hugged her petite curves the length of the dress would be fit for a woman that stood 5′ 8″ not 4’11″. Viola rushed the gown to her tailor and had him shorten the gown and alter it by having him slit the dress to her mid-thigh. She decided she would put on her favorite black suede pumps. As she wiggled her foot into the shoe she noticed her husband enter the bedroom, he was fresh out the shower. She gave his muscular body a once over. His skin was the color of cedar, aged but firm from regular exercise. They locked eyes and smiled at one another.



“Well you look good enough to eat.” Michael said.



“Thank you and I’m sure I will be able to say the same able you in fifteen minutes.”



Viola brushed past him attempting to head to the bathroom. He gently grasped her forearm and pulled her towards him.



“Where do you think you’re going? I said ‘you look good enough to eat.’ And I’m hungry.” he said smiling slyly. She looked into her husband’s light brown eyes. She could see the ring of fire in them; it was the only thing he got from his dad besides his name. She giggled as he started kissing her face.



“Let’s go to the bathroom so I can touch up my hair and do my makeup afterwards.” She whispered and he made a trail of kisses along her throat. She moaned as he nibbled her collarbone.



They quickly headed to the bathroom.



“I hope you boys are getting dressed!” She called to their sons.



Viola Jean hopped up on the bathroom counter which Michael recently installed. It was built to hold up to 200 pounds which was way more than her weight. Michael carefully moved the dress out of the way so that they wouldn’t ruin it. He snapped the garters against her thighs causing Viola to laugh at the sudden pinch.



“I can’t wait to get your sexy ass home tonight and slide my dick in you.” he growled while kneeling before Viola.



He pulled her all the way to the edge of the counter. He could smell a mixture her coconut scented lotion mixing with the smell of her aroused sex. She was wearing the black thong he had picked out for her to match the garter, which she lied about telling him that she bought it on impulse, in fact it was given to her by Patrick. He smiled at the pussy he was about to devour. Viola kept it neatly trimmed — never waxed and moisturized the most sensitive areas with baby oil. Her clit pointed straight out at him awaiting his tongue. He kissed her wetness like it was her mouth. His tongue slid slowly into her warm flesh and he lapped up her juices. Viola closed her eyes and rubbed her husband’s balding head. Patrick rarely ate her pussy, she never asked him to she figured if he wanted to he would’ve done it. She felt it was a little unfair that she would take his dick in her ass, mouth and pussy but who was she to complain when she’s in the middle of an affair. Michael licked the outer lips of her warm damp entrance and tickled her clit.



“Oh baby, that feels so good.” she moaned as she pulled his head deeper into her loins.



Michael shoved his tongue as deep as it could go into her wet crevice. He loved how his wife tasted. Mild, a bit salty, but never overpowering. Juices flowed into his mouth and it was clear she was close to her orgasm. She humped and ground her pussy into his tongue while he slurped up as much juice he could. Michael licked and sucked at her sensitive flesh. He could feel Viola’s freshly manicured nails dig into his scalp. He pumped two fingers into her sopping wet hole while kissing her thigh. He tickled her clit with his nose before shoving his tongue back into her. Viola held his head tightly against her pussy and ground herself against her husband’s mouth. Her thighs tightened around his head, squeezing his skull hard as she exploded into his mouth.



“Oh Michael!” she moaned.



Michael sucked her dry. He rose to his feet smiling at his wife as she leaned against the bathroom counter in an orgasmic afterglow.



“Shit, baby damn!” She said as she turned to look in the mirror.



Michael didn’t respond, he simply nodded, smiling as he always did after devouring her. He quickly cleaned his wife’s cum from his face as Viola fixed her hair and applied her makeup. He rushed out to get dressed. Viola smiled at what her husband had just done to her. She didn’t mind having to fix her hair after the tongue lashing Michael had just given her.



“Mom we’re ready!” She heard her son Andrew yell to her suddenly.



She joined them at the front door and admired how polished her 2 sons and husband looked. They all had on personally-tailored suits and Michael had given the boys fresh haircuts.



“You look amazing mommy.” Andrew said smiling at his mom.



Viola looked at her sweet 10 year old boy and smiled.



“I told Andrew to say that.” Chimed in her 6 year old son Daniel.



“Thank you both, my little handsome men.”



Michael had a cab waiting for them outside to take them to the city. The party started at 8pm and they arrived at 8:30pm. The ballroom at the plaza was decorated beautifully. The company had hired an actor to play Santa Clause to entertain the children at the party by handing out toys, reading stories and stuffing them full of pastries.



“Mom, can we go over there?” Andrew asked.



Viola Jean dug into her purse and handed Andrew his emergency cell phone.



“Call us for an emergency or if you just want us ok?”



Andrew nodded, grabbed his brother’s hand and headed towards Santa Clause and joined the other children.



Viola and Michael interlocked arms and began mingling with the joyous crowd. The couple made small talk with various co-workers and clients.



“Wow, what a handsome couple.” a familiar voice said behind them.



Viola turned around her eyes met Patrick’s. She blushed as she watched his eyes roam her body.



“Thank you Mr. Slater.” She smiled. “You’ve met my husband Michael.”



The men shook hands and smiled at one another.



“Your wife has been such an asset these past few months. All her hard work and overtime has really benefited us. We love her dedication.”



Michael smiled Viola. “Thanks man, I see the company has been showing their gratitude to her financially but it’s also nice to hear words of gratitude.” he turned to Viola. “I’m gonna go to the bar. Would you like anything?”



“Cranberry and Jameson.” replied Viola. Michael pecked her cheek and patted Patrick on the shoulder as he walked away.



“You look absolutely delicious Mrs. Ramsden.”



Viola blushed. “Thanks Patrick.”



A devilish grin spread across Patrick’s face. “Let’s disappear to my office and I’ll show you some more gratitude.”



“Behave yourself Patrick.” Viola kept her face stern, and scanned the crowd for her husband.



Patrick made eye contact with Viola’s dark brown eyes and moved closer to her. Her heart began to race; she could now smell his cologne a scent she had picked out for him while they shopped together at the Lord and Taylor. She was excited and nervous at the same time. Her body was flush but her dark complexion hid her emotion. The delicate thong she had on was soaking wet as she took deep inhales of Patrick’s scent.



“Do you smell the cologne you picked out for me?” is was as if he was reading her mind.



Viola nodded “Patrick please.” she pleaded with a small frown on her face.



“Ok ok I’ll stop. I don’t want you upset with me Mrs. Ramsden.”



Michael returned with Viola’s drink in hand. Patrick took it as a cue to exit.



“I hope you both have a lovely time tonight.” he said as he casually left the couple.



Viola took a large sip of her drink; half of the glass was now empty.



“Your boss seems pretty cool.”



“Well he wasn’t at first, but after I told him how rude and disrespectful he was being he changed up.” Viola lied.



Michael smiled and kissed her forehead. They found a table to sit at for dinner and their children joined them. As it got closer to dinner time everyone began to sit down. Viola looked around the table of 12 they chose and saw Trish, the redheaded temp. Viola got up and walked over to her.



“Hi Trish, I didn’t know they’d allow you to come. You look great!”



Trish had on a strapless dark green cocktail dress. Her red hair cascaded down her back in curls.



Trish smiled. “Thanks, you look nice too. I got invited, I’m Patrick’s date.”



Viola let out a nervous chuckle and caught it quickly. She flashed Trish a sweet smile.



“Really? Well I’m glad he didn’t come here alone.”



“Yeah he asked me like two days ago. I didn’t know he even had my number.”



Viola could feel the anger building up. “Neither did I.”



“See? And he tells you everything.”



“Well apparently he has secrets.” Viola tried to hide the anger in her voice. She got up and headed back to her seat. She kept her cool but inside she was burning mad. She smiled through the emotional state as they placed their orders. Patrick joined the table as soon as the waiter got to his spot. As he sat down he glanced up and into Viola Jean’s hard eyes. He could feel the anger coming out of them as he watched her pupils dance from Trish and back to him. Patrick had never seen her so angry and yet he was the only one that could see the emotion in her eyes as she grinned at the meaningless conversations around her. The food arrived and a quiet hush fell over the crowd as they started eating. Viola Jean watched as Patrick flirted with Trish. Trish giggled and hung on every word Patrick whispered to her. Her smile irritated Viola like sharp nails being dragged across a chalkboard. Viola wasn’t drunk but she did have 3 drinks in her. Michael had taken the boys back over to the children’s area.



“I thought there was a strict policy about dating within the company.” Viola said dryly.



Trish’s smile disappeared while Patrick narrowed his eyes at Viola.



“Well Mrs. Ramsden this is our first date and she does not work for the company I hired her through a temp agency.”



“Mr. Slater I just want assurance that she’s simply a date and she won’t be taking my position here with the firm. I’ve worked very hard to get where I’m at.”



Trish interrupted them. “I’m just a date Mrs. Ramsden there is no way I could ever be an executive assistant. I’ve seen your reports and I don’t think I could handle the stress.”



Viola Jean glared at Trish and allowed a smile to break across her face.



“I’m sure you could handle Mr. Slater’s workload just fine Trish. If Mr. Slater insists you’re just a date then well you must be just a date.”



Patrick continued to stare at Viola even as idle chit chat formed about the delicious dinner. Michael returned to join them. Viola greeted him smiling.



“Do you think I’ll get a dance out of you tonight?” Michael asked her.



Viola nodded and rose to her feet and headed to the dance floor with Michael following closely behind. The orchestra played slow music. Viola rested her head on her husband’s chest as they swayed to the music. She observed from afar Patrick and Trish enjoying one another’s company. Her heart broke a little as Trish formed words for Patrick to hang on with her pale pink lips. The song was over and Michael led Viola back to their table. As they sat down right in the empty chairs right next to Trish and Patrick. Viola instantly recognized the next song the orchestra began to play.



“Michael its Blue Danube!” she exclaimed.



“Viola you know I can’t waltz.”



Patrick didn’t give Viola a chance to pout. “I’ll waltz with you if it’s ok with your husband.”



“What about Trish?” Viola asked.



Trish smiled. “I don’t know how to waltz and I’m not a big fan of dancing anyway.”



Michael nodded in agreement. Patrick got up from the table, took Viola’s hand and led her back to the dance floor. They stood in the typical waltz stance. Viola tried her best not to make eye contact with Patrick as he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her in a waltz around the dance floor.



“I’m sorry Viola. I know I should’ve at least warned you. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”



Viola didn’t respond but Patrick could see she was hurt.



“Are you wondering if I have fucked her or plan on it? Cause I haven’t but I do plan on fucking her.”



They waltzed along the floor perfectly and didn’t realize some of the attendees sat down just to watch them dance.



“You waltz well Viola who taught you to dance?”



“No one, I taught myself” She responded dryly. “Michael tried to learn but he’s not too good at it. You don’t owe me an apology Patrick. I’m just a fuck for you so you can do what you want.”



“You’re not just a fuck. Fucking is what we do but I consider you a friend.”



“We didn’t become friends until after we fucked.”



Patrick frowned. “I like you a lot Viola Jean. I don’t want you to be angry with me.”



Viola lifted her head and her brown eyes, now wet from forming tears, stared back into his. Emotions were overwhelming her. Emotions she didn’t want to feel.



The music stopped and so did they. Viola Jean blinked, she could felt a tear roll down her cheek.



“Will you tell Michael I had to use the bathroom?”



Patrick nodded.



Viola Jean headed to the bathroom. She locked herself in one of the stalls and quietly sobbed. She felt guilty, confused, and heartbroken. She could picture Patrick fucking Trish, his hands roaming all over pale freckled skin as his mouth pressed against hers. The idea burned her up inside. Distracted by the feelings she was experiencing she didn’t even notice someone had come into the bathroom until they banged into one of the other stalls. She then heard a female’s giggle. When Viola Jean heard shushing, she figured it may be some intoxicated couple fooling around. She peered through the cracks of the stall. At first she couldn’t really see who it was but then she was able to see that the female was Trish. Viola already knew who her partner was but Trish had confirmed it.



“Oh Patrick!” Trish moaned as Viola could see Patrick’s head buried in Trish’s neck. He began kissing up her neck to her face and suddenly stopped.



“Patrick? What’s wrong?”



“Viola Jean said she was going to the restroom.”



“So what? She might be in a different one. She obviously she isn’t in here.”



Viola Jean quickly propped her feet up on the toilet, she knew all too well what was about to happen. Trish bent over and glanced at the floor underneath the stalls.



“No one is in here Patrick, not even your precious assistant. Now come on and slide that executive cock of yours in me.”



Viola held her breath as she slowly went back to peering position. She could see the back of Patrick; his pants were around his ankles. Viola’s eyes followed the cuts of his tense muscular legs. She could tell Trish was in front of him bent over with her dress pushed up around her waist. Viola watched Patrick pump in and out of his new fuckdoll, grunting like an animal. Viola thought she would be the only woman that could make him grunt like that. Pins and needles covered her body as the scene continued to unfold. Viola could see Trish’s reflection in the long, elegant bathroom mirror. Her peach colored face was flush and covered in a light sheen of sweat as Patrick pounded into her. Her cute face lost in passion as her pretty green eyes rolled around in her head. Viola’s hand snaked down the front of her silk chiffon gown. Stopping at her thigh where the slit began, her fingers dipped behind into the opening as if hiding behind a curtain. She stretched her index finger and tickled her clit with her fingernail. Electric shocks shot through her body. Her breathing slowed, her mouth went dry and her pussy wet. Viola couldn’t hold back any longer and plunged her fingers into her sopping hole.



Viola was angry with Patrick. How could he just fuck her? What if she’s better than me? Then she was angry with herself. She was jealous of a man who isn’t her husband fucking a woman who wasn’t her.



The erotic scene was impossible to ignore and Viola lost herself in it. She could smell Trish’s wet cunt and even hear the squishy sounds of Patrick’s cock sliding in and out of the young woman. Viola Jean’s slender fingers pumped in and out of her while rubbing her clit with vigor. She was on the edge and she could tell Patrick was close too. She watched him grasp Trish’s hips and thrust hard. He exploded into her pussy, grinding into her as he emptied himself into her tight hole. Viola pinched her clit; causing an overwhelming orgasm to rip through her body she stifled her moans. It helped that Trish was cumming at the same time and moaned loudly as if she’d been fucked well.



“Oh Patrick!!” Trish growled.



Viola Jean quietly watched the couple pull from each other. Trish giggled and smiled at Patrick and she fixed her dress and freshened up her makeup. Patrick smiled back at her. They finally left the bathroom arm and arm. Viola waited a bit till the coast was clear before exiting as well. She stepped into the walkway that led back to the ballroom. Patrick stood there smiling at her and her eyes popped open.



“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked.



Viola cleared her throat. “What are you talking about?”



“I know you were in there watching. Did you like what you saw? Curious to know how I knew you were in there?”



Viola didn’t respond.



“I smelled your perfume. It got even stronger when you came.”



He stepped closer to her, closing the distance, and buried his nose in Viola’s neck. She tried to pull away but Patrick stopped her.



“Michael took the boys home. He said he’ll see you soon for ‘dessert’.” Patrick smiled. “What’s for dessert, Mrs. Ramsden? Chocolate pudding?” His hands caressed up and down her soft toned arms. Viola trembled a little.



“I don’t do sloppy seconds, Mr. Slater.” she whispered harshly.



Patrick stared into the petite ebony’s eyes and guided her back to the bathroom. Once inside he attacked her mouth with his. Their kisses were slow, lingering, and passionate. Viola ran her hands through Patrick hair tugging at it as she bit at his lips. Patrick pulled away from her and took in the sight of her. The lighting gave her chocolate skin a golden glow. She had painted her lips a dark red for the night but besides the coloring of her lips she had little makeup on. His cock was hard but he didn’t want to fuck his ebony assistant. His eyes traveled up the slit of her dress he could her garters grasping the top of her pantyhose.

Fear, confusion, panic . . . all those emotions and more overcame Jacinda Montenegro in a horrifying instant. She was frozen to the spot where she sat; she couldn’t move. She felt paralyzed, unable to budge, incapable of moving a muscle. Her eyes searched the room looking for something that might help her get out of her predicament, something that could rescue her from her dilemma. Finally, with little other option, she cried out, “HELLLPPPPP! Help me! HELP!”



Khari Brevins, her boyfriend of two months, heard Jacinda’s cries from his comfortable position on the sofa in his basement, two floors away. He had been chilling in his man cave all by his lonesome; watching some college ball and eating a bacon cheeseburger fresh off the grill, some store bought potato salad he had doctored up to give it some taste, and drinking a few bottles of imported ale to quench his testosterone-driven thirst. He jumped up and bound up the stairs two and three at a time. Breathless, he reached the top of the staircase on the second floor of his house and made his way cautiously to the master bedroom. The slight sound of his bare feet on the hardwood floors in the hallway seemed to echo throughout the house as he crept along. Not wanting to make too much noise; he approached the bedroom with caution.



“HONEY! Help,” Jacinda cried out again, at the top of her lungs.



Entering the bedroom, Khari was expecting to see a blood bath of dismembered body pieces. Seeing nothing, he made his way further into the room. The bathroom door was ajar. He scanned the room quickly, looking for something that he might use as a makeshift weapon to defend himself but couldn’t find anything other than a pair of Jordans he had kicked off in the heat of passion the previous night and they wouldn’t work against a crazed serial killer, not even in a pinch. Disoriented momentarily, adrenaline taking over, Khari made his way across the room. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Summoning up all his courage, his fist clenched tightly, he stepped into the doorway to discover what sort of gruesome crime scene would lie before him.



“Oh, you’re here. Good,” Jacinda sighed. “You’re out of toilet paper. Can you get me some? I was getting ready to use your shower curtain to wipe my behind.” Seeing the humor in the situation, she burst out laughing. Based upon Jacinda’s wide-eyed, innocent, and dazzling smile, it was clearly evident that she had no clue that her screams for help might have been even a tiny bit on the melodramatic side. Backing out of the room and breathing a sigh of relief, Khari went to the linen closet in the hallway and grabbed three rolls of two-ply cushiony, quilted softness and returned to the scene of the crime so to speak.



“Here,” he said, standing in the door frame with his back towards Jacinda, trying to hand her the rolls of TP with his hand stretched precariously behind him.



“Uhmmm, I can’t reach, silly. I didn’t poop, ya know. It was only pee. You can come in. Would you just hand it to me, please?”



“Jeez, Jay, do you always have to be so graphic?” Exasperated, Khari closed his eyes and tip-toed into the bathroom like he was a little boy trying to pretend he was invisible, put the rolls of toilet paper down on the counter, and made a quick exit back to his basketball, burger, and brew.



Jacinda joined him about a half hour later, smelling like she had bathed and lotioned herself with every tropical fruit known to man, carrying a plate with a hoagie the size of the state of Connecticut in one hand and an orange-cream soda in the other. She had spent the morning in bed sleeping and relaxing while Khari was up and about doing his Saturday morning chores. This was their first real time together since they had woken up. “What’s the score?” Jacinda inquired.



Khari glanced over and all she was wearing was a pair of black bikini panties, not a stitch of other clothing. He practically spit his Samuel Smith Organic Lager across the room. “Uhhhmm, don’t you want to put some clothes on? I mean, it’s 2 in the afternoon.” Because they hadn’t been dating very long, this was the first time they had a date that didn’t end with one of them getting up and getting dressed in the middle of the night to go home. This was their very first intentional sleepover, complete with a packed bag and everything. It was clear that Jacinda was comfortable in her own skin, much more so than Khari could ever hope to be. For a brief moment, Jacinda felt embarrassed. In her own home, she’d walked around buck naked in front of Khari but, again, they had only been having sex for a couple of weeks so they hadn’t quite worked out all the logistics of coupledom just yet.



Jacinda felt ashamed; tears welled in her eyes. This was the first time in the 8 weeks that they had been dating that Khari wasn’t totally attentive and sweet. She thought her lack of clothing indicated that she was comfortable in his home but it was clear he didn’t want her to feel that relaxed. She jumped up, ran upstairs to get dressed, and returned a few minutes later wearing black leggings and a hot pink t-shirt. She even put on socks and shoes just to be on the safe side. She made her way back to the sofa and sat in silence as she ate her sub and watched the game. Khari sat in silence and watched the game, not even bothering to make small talk or look in her direction. He could tell that she was upset but he just didn’t care. When Jacinda said she was going to leave to go home, he made no efforts to ask her why or even ask her to stay. He cleared the dirty dishes and asked her if she needed help taking her bag to the car like she was an unwelcomed house guest who had stayed too long.



Khari, at 37 years of age, worked as an installer for a cable company. If anyone were to ask him to describe himself, he would emphatically say that he was a good guy with his own house, his own car, no criminal record, and no kids. He made a fairly decent salary but if it wasn’t for the fact that Khari had gotten into a car accident and received a settlement of $60,000 he wouldn’t have been able to put a down payment on a house and buy his truck. In fact, if he hadn’t gotten that lump sum, he more than likely would have been living with his mother in her basement. He liked to live for the moment and saving and budgeting had never been skills he had mastered so he blew the rest of the money on partying and ladies.



As for the ladies, Khari was a liar and a cheater extraordinaire who treated women like objects. He had never, not once in his life, had a girlfriend he hadn’t cheated on. He didn’t even think that was a problem or an issue, it never even crossed his mind that anything was wrong with that fact. The only person he thought of in relationships was himself, women were a nuisance because he really only wanted sex and he resented having to pretend to care about someone else and their feelings, but that’s what he did, pretend. He was great at pretending when he wanted to; his acting skills could have won him an Academy award. Khari had the ability to convince women that he was attentive, loving, committed, faithful, and oh so in love, right up until the minute he decided he was bored of pretending then he would move on, no explanation, no looking back. When he was in a relationship and his self-centered urges hit, he would do something, anything to fuck up the relationship and he would gravitate back to the collection of mentally-unstable women he kept on retainer who he had romanced in the past and who found his particular brand of emotional immaturity sexy and who didn’t ask too many questions to ascertain his level of fidelity. Or at least they believed his lies enough to be swept up in the romance of it all.



Standing at 5’9″, 180 lbs, naturally fit, built like a Pit-bull, with flawless caramel-colored brown skin and a smile that could light up any room, Khari was neither ugly nor overly attractive. His most “attractive” feature was that he knew how to pour on the charm to get women to fall in love with him. The romantic emails, the late night phone calls, the dinners and the endless lies were his weapons of choice. It was especially the phone calls in the beginning of the relationship that lasted hours and hours where he would tell the women how amazing, wonderful, and intense the connection he felt to them and that would usually be enough to seal the deal and make them fall in love. After they fell head over heels, the phone calls would last 20 minutes and he always had something more important to do than talk on the phone. You see, Khari was addicted to the chase. When he caught his prey, he would find someone else to romance. When the women whose hearts he had destroyed would confront him, angry and hurt, he would ignore them like they didn’t even exist, blame them for some made up excuse, and he would take no responsibility whatsoever for his actions without a thought or care in the world. Khari was totally oblivious of how heinous it was to make a woman fall in love with him and then just snatch it away.



Jacinda, on the other hand, was a case-study in growth, evolution, and transformation. She had gone through her 20s depending on her looks. It’s what Black women who are attractive do. You use your looks, your big butt, and, if you’re “lucky,” your light skin to get men to do everything for you without you needing to have a thought or a care in the world about being self-sufficient or independent. She dressed well, was relatively smart, and standing at 5’5″ tall, 160 pounds, possessing more than her fair share of tits and ass, there was no shortage of men vying for her attention and willing to buy her things to impress her. That meant men fell all over her just for the chance to have her on their arm when they were out and about town but ultimately, their only true goal was to get her into bed. She wasn’t a real person to most of them, just a sexual conquest. She was more like an erotic game piece to be collected by men in some twisted competition to see who could screw the most attractive women.



Jacinda had gone through her 30s dependent on books, immersing herself in self-help books, workshops, seminars, and retreats in an effort to unpack a little bit of the baggage so many Black women carry around with them that had been keeping her from knowing real joy. She was way past the “buy me” stage and wanted men to value her for more than her looks, but for her substance. She didn’t want to hold onto past pain to the point where she exploded in violent anger at the tiniest provocation. She didn’t want to feel like she was constantly walking around with a cloud of insecurity and self-doubt hovering over her. Her 30s was her time of reinvention and renewal.



In her 40s, Jacinda was the top in her field of cooks. She’d quit her job as a bank manager and she’d gone to culinary school and gotten a job as a food stylist on a TV network. It was great because she could express her creativity with what she loved doing the most and she didn’t have the dreadful schedule of a restaurant chef. She finally had gotten comfortable in her own skin. Everything wasn’t all peaches and cream, however, because it seemed that she was so anxious to love and be loved, not to grow old alone, she would jumped into relationships where the warning signs were there and she found herself overlooking some major character flaws in men and giving too much weight to chemistry and not enough weight to character. She didn’t date thugs, she dated emotionally immature men. It wasn’t a preference it was just a reality that Black men hardly ever did any work on themselves and they had been raised in a society that told them that their manhood was to be measured in inches and machismo.



She figured that if she could just find a good enough man who was committed to her, she could help shape him into a great man with love and guidance. It didn’t seem all that unreasonable to her. No relationship is perfect; Prince Charming only exists in fairy tales. She was doing what she thought was her only choice, to accept what her mother, sisters, grandmother, aunts, and a whole host of elder Black women had been telling her since she was a child. Men, they said, were never going to be sensitive, nurturing, or understanding so if she didn’t want to spend her life alone, she needed to just suck it up and deal with it. It was that advice that landed her in a string of dead-end relationships.



After their little incident, Jacinda let a few days go by, hoping Khari would call her and apologize for the incident, or at least acknowledge that he should have been a bit less rude and a bit more sensitive. That call never came. Her mind raced, her thoughts would spin out of control. She couldn’t figure out what happened to the man who had come to fix her cable and blown her away with his sensitivity and attentiveness. She saw his postings on Facebook; simultaneously she planned and plotted on what and when to post on her Facebook page so that he would see them and he could be reminded of her presence. Finally, tired of the childish games, she picked up the phone and called him. He was emotionally distant. She addressed the issue head on, he told her that she was over-reacting and that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Khari never apologized. He just glossed over that part as if he didn’t owe her anything and he acted as if he did nothing wrong. Much to Jacinda’s credit, it was her efforts at communicating her feelings without projecting shame that turned the tide in the conversation and before long; things were back on a good footing.



The weeks turned to months and they were getting along better all the time. The relationship had a few problems, nothing to break up over, and for the most part they were going extremely well. Khari’s brothers had been teasing him about settling down and finding someone rather than just the endless string of women that only lasted two or three months so Khari decided that Jacinda was nice enough that he would try to make it work with her. The relationship really started to blossom when he made that choice. There was very little fighting, they got along well, they enjoyed the same forms of entertainment and social activities and the sex was . . . very, very good.



The sex between them wasn’t bad by any stretch of the imagination; Khari made sure Jacinda came every time. Jacinda just like felt the sex was monotonous, lacked any sort of creativity. A typical evening would be spent having dinner, watching TV, and when Khari decided that he was tired enough to go to bed and not too tired for sex, they would shut everything down and head to the bedroom. Khari always wore a t-shirt and boxers to bed and the lights out always had to be out. Their routine was entirely predictable. Jacinda would get in bed, usually naked or wearing something semi-sexy, and Khari would follow soon thereafter. He would start rubbing his dick on her ass and playing with her breasts and talking dirty. That would go on for about 15 minutes until he thought she was sufficiently aroused and then would slide his boxers off and climb on top of her under the covers and “do his business” as Miss Celie would say.



Technically, Khari was masterful at throwing the dick. His dick got super-hard, he lasted long, he had a phenomenal down stroke, and he knew how to seal the deal. The only thing missing for Jacinda was diversity. He never once sucked a toe, he never gave her a massage, they barely even kissed. Every once in a while they would augment their evening with a little oral sex but Khari wanted to use sex more as an aide to get to sleep rather than an actual intimate connection with the woman with whom he shared his life. Jacinda wanted more sensuality, more passion, more variety but Khari always had an excuse for why it had to be pretty much the same way all the time. He was tired, he had to get up early, he had other things on his mind, everything was an excuse for him not to do anything other than exactly what he wanted to do. Eventually, Khari got to the point where he could silence Jacinda’s complaints about sex by saying, “Babe, I’m so in love with you, I need you. Sex with you is amazing. You are all the woman I need.”



And those were all the words she needed to hear. The sex wasn’t bad so Jacinda thought it was her responsibility to be a little more accepting of what was good about the sex and conversely try to gently suggest other things they could do together. Most other women would have been satisfied with a good, hard fuck but Jacinda wanted to incorporate toys, she wanted to try different scenarios and techniques, she wanted to have spontaneous sex at 4 in the afternoon in the shower or the kitchen or the park. She would have settled for him just being more tactile in bed. Anything would have been an improvement but she weighed the pros and cons of their relationship and decided it wasn’t a deal breaker. Lying, cheating, doing something intentionally hurtful, those were deal breakers and she was assured Khari loved her and that was worth more to her than playing some silly erotic board game, a hot stone massage, or using chocolate body paints.



On the night of their one-year anniversary, Khari took Jacinda to their favorite restaurant. They sat across the table from one another and gazed into each other’s eyes, they flirted and talked and fed each other. Love was in the air. Khari realized that this was the longest, healthiest relationship he’d ever been in. He was caught up in it, thinking that he had really changed, that he was no longer a player but he was really, truly a good guy. He was starting to believe his own lies. He started to pour on the charm. “Over this last year, Jay, I’ve grown so much. You’ve helped me to be a better human being, and dare I say it, a better man. I am so comfortable with you. I can easily see myself spending the rest of my life with you.”



When he heard the words come out of his mouth, something instantly changed within him. Never stuttering for a second, while he was still professing his undying love, his mind was racing with thoughts that he wanted to end the relationship and end it immediately. He knew he had gone too far. Khari didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with anyone. What he wanted was to fuck as many random women as he could, no strings attached, and never have to pretend to care about another woman for as long as he lived. Fuck what his family had been saying. He had gotten so masterful at lying, at pretending to be the sweet, sensitive boyfriend that he almost started to believe his own hype. The minute he heard himself say that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Jacinda, it was like being struck by lightning. He knew that he HAD to get out of the relationship and fast. He knew that he couldn’t keep pretending to love her. He wanted to be as self-centered and narcissistic as he could be. He didn’t mind pretending to be into women if they were just fuck buddies and booty calls and married women who had husbands to go home to but telling a woman that he wanted to spend his life with her, he had gone too far and the game had to stop.



Even as he was sitting there, even as he heard his professions of love in his little prepared speech leave his lips, he was planning his exit. He was holding her hand, softly touching her cheek, and telling her things that every woman would want to hear and he was lying the entire time. He knew in that very moment that the next time that she brought up an issue about their relationship, he would blow it out of proportion and give her no choice but to break up. He thought about cheating on her and letting her find out but that was Plan B. Technically, he had cheated on her before but it but he justified in his mind that it didn’t really count because it was only oral from some chick at his job he didn’t give a fuck about anyway. He knew Jacinda; he knew that it wouldn’t be long before she wanted to talk about “the truth” or feelings or how to make their relationship better, or something about relationship stuff. It was just a matter of time.

That time came before he knew it. When they got back to her apartment, they settled down to watch TV as usual. Jacinda had been overwhelmed by his professions of love. She knew they had been getting closer, that the relationship was getting stronger and stronger with each passing day, week, and month, but she hadn’t expected him to start talking about a future together. He had always been so adamant about not wanting anything long-term. She was happy, for the first time in her life, she felt like, “This is it, this is my happily ever after.” The relationship wasn’t perfect, the disparity in emotional maturity was offset by the ease, fluidity, and comfort they shared in so many other aspects of their partnership, but it was, or so she thought, healthy and happy and stable and just perfect for her. She figured it was the ideal night to talk about the lack of seduction and variety in their sex lives again. In her mind, he had taken a huge step towards her and it was really a game changer in their relationship. She chose her words carefully. Tentatively, she said, “Khari, I need to ask you a question.”



“What?” he responded, his voice dripping with defensiveness, preparing himself for the showdown.



“I’ve been thinking a lot about us, well, about you know, about our sex. I was just wondering if . . .” She hesitated. She wanted to be as gentle as possible. There was never going to be an easy time to bring up the topic but she took a deep breath and decided that if they really were going to spend the rest of their lives together that they had to have this discussion. “It seems like you have never feel comfortable being naked around me unless we are having sex. You aren’t even comfortable with me being naked unless we are having sex. I was wondering if . . .”



“Just say it,” he said, pretending to be growing frustrated and annoyed with her stalling but really not caring one way or the other what she was about to say. Whatever she said, he was going to turn it into a reason to break up.



Jacinda summoned up the courage to ask the necessary questions. “Well, I was wondering,” she said in her sweetest voice possible, “I have been thinking about all the women in your past. And I’ve tried to make sense of the patterns in your life. Do you think the reason why you are so uncomfortable with being naked around me, and the reason why you seem to enjoy more of a wham, bam thank you ma’am is, I was thinking maybe the reason you aren’t so comfortable with exploring our sexuality more is . . . maybe because you . . . you know . . . aren’t . . . well, truly comfortable with your . . .” She took a deep breath. “Black men are perceived to be well-endowed and I was wondering if you might feel a bit uncomfortable because . . .”



Before she could even finish her thoughts, Khari yelled, “DA FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?!?” He jumped up and stormed across the room, staring out the window into the dark urban street 14 floors below. “You trying to say my dick ain’t big enough for you? Trust me, I have never had anyone complain. I got plenty of women who want to get down with me. Way hotter women than you, in fact.” Jacinda’s word cut him like a knife. He was hurt, truly hurt, and he was trying to hurt her back. This wasn’t part of his master plan, this was the real deal. “So what, I don’t have a foot of dick between my legs. I still blow your back out,” he added.



Jacinda ran to his side, tried to reassure him that she wasn’t complaining, that she wasn’t trying to hurt his feelings, she just wanted to be open and honest and discuss what might be behind the reason he was so unwilling to explore their sexuality more.



The truth was Khari had been ashamed of the size of his dick since his earliest memories of knowing what sex was. He was on a little league team when he was 11 and he was the only Black boy on the team. In the showers after a game one day, one of the boys started making fun of him, pointing at his penis and saying how it wasn’t big like Black guys were supposed to have, telling him he wasn’t really Black. His dick wasn’t smaller than any of the other boys on the team, it just wasn’t hanging to his knees either and they made sure to remind him of it every chance they got. They told him that he would never get a white girl with his little dick; they said that he must have slave master blood in him because he didn’t have a big, black cock like the other brothers in the hood. It didn’t really matter that none of them had even been to the hood or seen another Black penis in real life. They were basing their comments on the interracial porn stashed in their father’s porn collections. Khari never told anyone. He never told his parents, he never told the coach, he never told his friends or a girlfriend. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words that they were making fun of him because his dick was average. In his mind, they were saying, your dick is too small and he carried that pain with him deeply.



As Khari got older to the age when everyone was experimenting with sex, he was afraid to approach girls. Senior prom, he got up the nerve and asked a young lady to the prom. After the prom, they got a hotel room with a bunch of other kids, some alcohol, and they were off to make memories. Immediately upon completion, his heart racing and his mind full of doubts and insecurities, he asked her how it was for her. Her response was to be etched in his subconscious forever. “Well, I thought it was going to be different. You know, all my friends said it would hurt but it didn’t. I thought it was going to be . . . better.”



With those words, she sealed Khari’s fate. From that moment on, he decided that if any girl showed an interest in him, he would pretend to be in love with her so that if and when it got to the point of having sex, she wouldn’t complain that he wasn’t some super-hung Mandingo. It was his insurance policy. He didn’t care who showed him attention, fat, ugly, younger, older, married, dating, nothing in common, he didn’t care if she had slept with every man in a 50 mile radius, as long as she showed an interest in him, he would say whatever he had to say in order to get them to be infatuated with him so he could fuck her. He didn’t realize that he all of the pretending that he was in love was unnecessary, that most of the girls would have slept with him regardless. He never realized that his dick wasn’t too small at all, it was average. But having an average-sized dick for Black men is often times a source of shame.



When he got to college, he made sure to never shower or undress in front of anyone, not roommates, not girlfriends, especially not anyone on the baseball team. At the first opportunity, he got an apartment by himself off campus. The only time he got naked in life was to shower and to have sex. He never even looked at himself naked in the mirror. Did he equate any of that with his insecurity about his dick size? Not once. Never having made any conscious connection between what happened to him when he was on the little league team and his behaviors with women for the last 25 years, the only thing Khari knew in that moment was that he was angry with Jacinda and he didn’t need an excuse to end the relationship, she had nailed the coffin shut herself.



Khari calmly denied her accusations and stood there, stoic and outraged, in silence, ignoring Jacinda like she didn’t even exist. Jacinda was crying hysterically, trying to calm Khari down, reason with him. She was falling all over herself, apologizing. It hadn’t come out at all like she had wanted. She wanted to reassure him that he was more than big enough for her, that she was satisfied with the relationship and the sex; she had made a stupid attempt at bringing up a subject that most Black men are terrified to talk about. Kicking herself, Jacinda knew she had made a huge mistake. She knew Khari wasn’t the sort of man who would ask himself the hard questions. She knew that whenever it came to bringing up any issue where he would have to reveal something about himself that was ugly or painful, that he would react negatively and deny, deny, deny.



“I’m out. I’m not going to do this anymore.” With that, Khari grabbed his jacket and walked past Jacinda like she wasn’t even there.



“Wait, where are you going?” Sobbing uncontrollably, Jacinda pleaded. “Stay, we can talk about this. I’m sorry. Babe, we had a wonderful evening. We love each other. We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together. We can work through this. I will admit I wasn’t as sensitive about the issue as I should have been. Let’s talk, this is a misunderstanding, let’s not ruin the evening. Sweetie, I am so very sorry. Please don’t go!”



Khari made sure to shut down any hopes of working things out as he put his hand on the front door. Without even looking back, he mumbled, “I don’t want to be in a relationship with you. I didn’t really love you. It was all a lie,” as he shut the door behind him to the unhinged and irrational screams of Jacinda behind him.



Jacinda cried for weeks. She sent texts, emails, cards, she made phone call after phone call, all of which were ignored. She sent links to articles about penis size and a woman’s pleasure, explaining in detail that bigger does not mean better. She sent diagrams showing that a woman’s g-spot is located about 2 inches inside a woman’s vagina and that even an average sized dick is more than sufficient to give a woman a vaginal orgasm. She could have sent Dr. Oz himself to say that Khari’s dick was more than big enough and he wouldn’t have cared one iota. Khari was too emotionally immature to email or call Jacinda back so he just let her keep emailing and texting him until she eventually got the message. He had erased her out of his life like she didn’t exist. In his world, anyone who made him face his insecurities was dead to him. Unable to wrap her head around the fact that she was in what she thought was the happiest relationship of her life one minute, and literally, an hour later, it was gone, Jacinda struggled with depression, anger, confusion, loneliness, and a sense of betrayal for months.



Over on the other side of town, Khari struggled with no such conflict. They broke up on a Wednesday, he was fucking another woman by Saturday, and it would have been Friday but he had plans with his co-workers after work that night. Within weeks, he had a different woman for every night of the week to play with and manipulate. Most were women from his past he could call up and manipulate easily, newer women required more time and finesse to seduce but he was up for the challenge. He was single and had not ties to anyone. He would have tried to romance the homeless girl who sat on the bus stop all day if he thought she would give him some. Before work, during work, after work, all night long, he was trying to romance someone to get them in bed. He felt no compunction using them, degrading them, taking out his anger and frustration on them sexually.



Truthfully, it wasn’t anger and frustration Khari felt, it was insecurity and fear. He heard Jacinda’s words over and over again in his head every time it came time for “that moment” when he had to undress in front of a woman. He hated her for making him feel like that little boy being shamed in the locker room, like the young man on prom night all over again; memories he had intentionally shut out. If there was one thing in life that Khari had prided himself on was making women infatuated with him to stroke his ego. He became so terrified someone was going to tell him that his dick was little that he began to overcompensate by doing his level best to hit it, stab it, kill it, to brutally and savagely fuck every woman he could. And the women ate it up. They showed up in the middle of the night or 5 AM in the morning, they were at his beck and call whenever he needed to silence the voices in his head. He loved the dysfunction and the drama. He loved lying to women, convincing them that they were the only one when they were one of so many, he couldn’t keep track of them all. They didn’t seem to want to know or care about other women in his life, they just seemed grateful for the emails, phone calls, dinners, concerts, and the good dick.



For the better part of a year, Khari was on a sexual rampage; a slave to his dick. He was sticking it in anything and everything without a care for disease, pregnancy, common sense, or standards. Sex was his drug of choice and he was self-medicating and numbing his feelings of insecurity in all aspects of his life, demons he had never faced, with women he manipulated into bed. He wanted and needed to sexually dominate them, to slap, choke, degrade, and humiliate them in order to feel good about himself. And because they loved it, each and every one of them ate it up in fact, and came back for more whenever he told them, he felt high off the adrenaline.



Everything came crashing to a halt one day when, before work, he was overwhelmed with emails from all the women in his current rotation of fuck buddies that he composed an erotic story and sent it to all of them, which wasn’t unusual or uncommon. This particular morning however, in a rush, he accidentally didn’t BCC them and by noon, his phone was blowing up with calls and texts from a half a dozen women all wanting answers. They started emailing each other, confirming times, dates, and commonalities in seduction. They all started to piece together that the restaurant that was “their special restaurant” wasn’t so special and that he took all of them there. They started to figure out that in far too many instances, when one woman left in the morning, there was something else there that same night. And they all figured out that there hadn’t been a condom used between all of them.



Two of the women had a modicum of self-esteem, cursed him out, and walked away. Three of the women believed him when he said that it was all a contrived plot by a nameless ex-girlfriend who had hacked his e-mail and made up the other email addresses to cause drama. They “sort of” questioned his sincerity but they were just as addicted to his level of dysfunction, lying, and hot sex as he was to the adrenaline rush of manipulating them into being infatuated with him so they simply chose to ignore the obvious truth and keep on with the way things were. One of the women however was never really mentally-stable in the first place, and while she was sweet and oh so pleasant as long as she was in the dark, she became a psychotic lunatic intent on exacting painful revenge after finding out the truth. She stalked him, she called him night and day, she showed up at his job unexpectedly; she was intent on making him pay and pay dearly.



One would think that at damn near 40, Khari would have learned that pretending someone doesn’t exist, ignoring them like the emotional pain he had caused them meant nothing, is really only appropriate if you are 7 years old and you are ignoring your imaginary friend. But ignore he did and he paid the price for it. Had he simply faced his victim with a bit of humility and remorse, if he hadn’t acted like she meant nothing to him and that her pain was insignificant to him, he could have saved himself a world of trouble. But Khari was arrogant and stupid. For every email that she sent him that went unanswered, for every text he deleted, for every phone call from her he rejected, he sent her into a fuming rage, infuriated that her voice wasn’t being heard, her pain wasn’t worth addressing.



Treating women like disposable game pieces and ignoring the pain he caused them was a lesson he would learn with near fatal consequences. As he pulled into his garage one night, lowered the door, and grabbed his bags of groceries, the sensation hit him quickly. At first, it was warm, then, almost instantly, it became a burning sensation. He couldn’t breathe. It was surreal. He reached around to his side and felt the warmth. He held his hand up and could see the blood, but it was almost like it wasn’t his own. Crumpled to the floor, he managed to call 911 just before he passed out.



Had she stabbed him an inch to the left, she would have punctured a lung and Khari would have died instantly. Talk about a close call. As he recuperated in the hospital, Khari thought it was almost comical. “I damn near lost my life over some pussy.” But it wasn’t pussy that almost got him killed; it was the heart of the woman who was attached to that pussy that he should have never fucked with. Even after a woman had played sushi chef with his insides, he still wasn’t willing to acknowledge that he had done anything wrong. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that it had even happened to him. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen to him. For all of his lies and manipulations, he was so great at lying, he’d avoided any drama like this up until this point. He was the guy that women loved, not hated. The physician at the hospital, hearing bits and pieces of the story and able to figure out pretty much the rest of it, recommended therapy for Khari and he vehemently refused. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with him and he certainly didn’t want to change. He liked being “free and independent” as he called it, meaning, egotistical and self-absorbed.



In the months following the stabbing, there was a trial. The young lady was convicted but she brought out the infamous email and all the women were called to the stand to testify. Khari’s family, hell, everyone in the city learned all about the type of man Khari really was because it was the opening story on the local news for weeks. He distanced himself from his loved ones and friends even though they still supported him but he was ashamed of his actions and just wanted to hide out in his basement and sit in front of the TV.



Meanwhile, back at the ranch as they say, in the weeks following the trial, Khari found that his libido had started coming back and his need for sex was returning. Only problem was, he was afraid to initiate sex with anyone. Khari was sure that every woman in the world knew of his womanizing ways and that the next time one of them got close to him they were going to try to cut off his dick rather than stab him in the back. He would never admit it to anyone but he was even more afraid after the stabbing that women were going to ridicule him for having a little dick if he didn’t lie to them and convince them that he was in love with them. Therein was the root of his conundrum. He was terrified of lying to women to get sex but he felt like he had to lie to get sex. He had a six inch scar to remind him of what lying had gotten him in life.



Isolated from friends and family, with no one to talk to, and most importantly, feeling like he had no opportunities for sex unless he moved to east Mozambique, he pulled out the card for the therapist he had been given and made an appointment. It was the last thing he wanted to do and he didn’t even think it would help. The only thing that made him keep the appointment was the vague memory of Jacinda and how she had said that maybe, just maybe, that his need to use women was tied to his concept of manhood. Something about that had resonated with him. He’d gone to counseling before and it didn’t work because he, obviously, lied the entire time. He planned on lying this time as well. He just wanted a quick fix, some magic pill that would allow him to get back to fucking women again.



For the first three months, Khari lied so much that he couldn’t keep track of the lies. His therapist was a man and not distracted by or attracted to him so he would call out the lies and they would have to start over from scratch. Finally, lonely, isolated, scared, horny, and hating himself, Khari started to tell the truth. It started spilling out. He talked about the boys on the baseball team and how he pretended to his buddies that he had a big dick in order to feel validated. He spoke of the women in his life he had hurt, his compulsion to use women, what makes him feel good about slapping women and degrading them during sex. He opened Pandora’s Box and he started telling the truth like his life depended on it.

For the first time in his life he realized how deep the rabbit hole went. All the lying we did to women wasn’t compartmentalized to just them. He became aware for the first time in his life that his Casanova ways meant that he was lying to everyone in his life. He had to lie to his parents, his brothers, his friends, his co-workers, more importantly to himself to cover up his addiction to sex and women. For the very first time in his life, Khari realized how there was no place in his life where the lies didn’t consume him.



For months, he did nothing but talk, the doctor barely asked questions, barely offered advice. Finally, Khari literally got to the end. He had purged himself of all of his guilt and lies, and confessions and revelations. Everything was out in the open. He was waiting to be fixed. That was the point of therapy and he was waiting for the doc to tell him to read a book and take a pill and he could go back to the way he was without the fear. He was growing anxious. He hadn’t had sex in a months and he felt like he was going to die. Feeling anxious, he pushed the therapist to make a diagnosis and write a prescription for his anxiety.



The doctor casually said, “Khari, there really isn’t much I’m going to be able to tell you that will convince you not to lie. You’ve built your life on falsehoods, deceptions, manipulations, and lies and you aren’t going to change. I’ve never encountered a more pathological liar than you in all my years of practice. The only thing that can really help you now is if you stop lying to yourself and I can’t imagine that happening because you are still not taking responsibility for yourself and the impact your lies have on other people.”



Khari was more than slightly irritated. “What the hell? You mean to tell me I’ve wasted 5 months of my life coming here every week spilling my guts and you are sitting here telling me that I can’t be fixed? That I’m a pathological liar? Man, talk about a racket. That is a nice gig if you can get it, man. All I wanted was to be able to get back to normal. Glad my insurance covered this. Thanks for nothing, man.”



As he was headed for the door, the doctor asked one last question. “Khari? The lying. Other than a lot of sex, what has it gotten you?”



The door slammed behind him but it was the words that rang loudest in his ears. In the stillness of his truck, Khari sat surrounded by the ghosts of his dysfunction for the very first time in his life. He sat in his vehicle and for the first time since childhood, he cried. He cried out the tears and the pain of a little boy humiliated by racism until he couldn’t cry any more. He let the movie of his life play in his head. The doctor wasn’t really asking him about the women he lied to, he was asking him if he had convinced himself with his lies that he was as gorgeous, talented, capable, desirable, and as perfect as he wanted to feel inside, as he wanted the world to see him. That’s what every lie was about. He wasn’t lying to convince women that he was all those things; he was lying so that he could try to convince himself. On the inside, Khari felt ugly, talentless, and undesirable and nothing he could tell himself or any other woman would change that. In that moment, Khari started doing the hard work of real therapy and the next week with the doctor was actually like his first. He started peeling off the layers of why he felt so unworthy and unlovable.



Over the next year, Khari spent more time on that couch than he could count. Sometimes, he had two appointments a week. Everything was on an accelerated pace. It was like a 12 step recovery for him only his addiction was not booze or drugs or even sex, it was lying. The first thing he knew he had to do was get tested for STDs. The fear of having HIV was always in the back of his mind when he had unprotected sex but now he realized his low self-esteem was what was making him take such unnecessary and unhealthy choices. He started contacting women from his past, of his own volition and without prompting, and apologizing for the way he had treated them. Even women who had no clue he had lied to, women who would had fucked him without too much effort and a few strategic lies, he would confess his sins and extend his sincere apologies, something he had NEVER done before in his life. That’s how he knew he was really changing.



Eventually, Khari started dating again. This time, rather than pretending to be a nice guy, pretending to listen, he really was. He would have real conversations with women about real topics, real feelings, real emotions and he would share his opinions and offer insights based on his own revelations. For the first time in his life he started to be discriminating. He didn’t just go to bed with any woman that showed an interest in him, he wanted women that could help him be a better man. He stopped romancing women for sport and he even got his heart broken a few times by women who wanted no parts of him because of his notorious past. Khari was becoming emotionally mature, something that had been a foreign concept to him up until that point. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?



There’s always that little fly in the machine to muck things up though. For all of his making amends, the one person he hadn’t contacted to confess and apologize to was Jacinda. He told his therapist it was because he just wasn’t ready but then took a deep breath and confessed it was because he had loved her the most and that he had hurt her the most. He knew that what he was calling love before wasn’t real because it was based on emotional deception but the happiest he had ever been in his life was with her. He knew now that what she was suggesting, the reason why he didn’t want to be naked in front of her, the reason he wanted sex to be short, sweet, and to the point is because he didn’t know how to be truly intimate, all he knew how to do was pretend.



Fate has a way of fucking with you when you are putting off the inevitable. After the stabbing, Khari had been transferred to business accounts on his job and he got a work order to upgrade all the routers for the very TV station that Jacinda worked for. He couldn’t sleep the night before. He got up at the crack of dawn and watched mindless TV not so patiently until it was time to shower and go to work. He pulled into the garage with a ton of apprehension. He didn’t even know what floor she worked on, if she still worked there, or if he would come anywhere near her over the course of the next few days. Part of him was terrified that she would stab him if she saw him but another part of him wanted to just apologize and explain. If he was being honest with himself, a part of him wanted another chance with her but he realized through therapy that he had burned that bridge and that the most he should hope for was asking for her forgiveness even if she decided not to accept it. Well, that and he was saying a silent prayer as well that she didn’t try to slit his throat.



It’s a good thing Khari kept an extra uniform shirt and some deodorant in his truck because he was sweating so profusely the first few hours there that he had sweated the underarms of his shirt clean through. It had been over two years since he had talked to Jacinda and he was remiss that he hadn’t actually paid attention to her when she was talking so he didn’t remember what show she worked on. Casually, as to not draw too much attention to himself, he asked a few people if they knew who she was. They all did but they said she worked on several shows and could be anywhere. One young lady said if she saw Jacinda, she would tell him that he was looking for her. He tried to play it off and tell her that wasn’t necessary but he was anxious to see her. He could barely concentrate on doing his job he was so busy looking around to see if he could see her. He hadn’t figured out a plan, he didn’t know what he was going to say if he ran into her, all he knew was he wanted to see her and apologize. Anything beyond that, he wasn’t emotionally mature enough to grasp just yet.



“Khari, is that you?” The familiar voice called out to him while he was on a ladder in the lunch room, his head completely obscured from view by the ceiling tiles. His heart skipped a beat and he almost fell off the ladder. He climbed down slowly and saw her for the first time in years. She looked even more beautiful than she had before.



“Hey, uhmmmm, hi. How are you?” He smiled nervously.



Jacinda didn’t respond, she turned and walked away, visibly shaken and upset. The old Khari would have let her go and not had another fleeting thought about her. The new and slightly improved Khari took a chance he had never taken before, he went after her. “Hey, wait up a minute. There’s something I want to say, no need to say.”



Frozen in her tracks, Jacinda was overcome with emotion. She’d spent the better part of a year trying to heal from the hurt of their breakup. And just when she thought she had gotten to a place where she was okay with moving on, she had to be painfully reminded of his trial and the lies, and the women, and the hurt all over again every day for weeks. Everyone at her job knew she had dated him, everyone whispered behind her back about how he must have cheated on her. She fought back the tears as she stood there, looking at him, hurt and confused like the night he walked out of her apartment and didn’t look back.



Khari started apologizing, quietly, as to not draw too much attention while they were both working, but while the words were coming out of his mouth, he was thinking about the afternoon in his basement when she had come downstairs in nothing but panties, looking sexy and innocent with nothing but the most sincere motives, and he had treated her like she was some sort of criminal. Jacinda heard the words coming out of his mouth and they vaguely sounded like an apology but she was hearing that final speech about how he had never loved her and it had all been a lie. She didn’t hear anything he said. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out how to make him feel like an idiot. He certainly didn’t need any help in that department. He felt ashamed. And that was a good thing. It meant he was finally feeling remorse for the first time in his life. Not pretending to feel remorse, but actually processing his real feelings.



Khari did everything in his power to make the job last longer than it had to. What could have taken a week or so, ended up taking the better part of a month. Every day, he would go out of his way to find Jacinda and say hello, offer to take her to lunch, apologize again, whatever he could do to just be in her presence.



One of the things that being self-aware does to you is teaches you to forgive the people who have hurt you because you realize that they were doing the best they could at the time with the broken tools they had. In the years since they had broken up, Jacinda had done a lot of work on herself and she had it in her heart to forgive but beyond that, she didn’t want to forget. The words, “I didn’t really love you. It was all a lie,” kept ringing over and over in her head. There was no greater betrayal.



Emotionally, Jacinda was in the same place again. She could see that Khari was making an effort to really make amends. She could sense what she thought was his sincerity but she just couldn’t be sure. She felt herself remembering the good times of the year they had together and not the bad times. If they had broken up because they had been fighting, if the relationship had been stagnant, she would be able to walk away and not look back. They had broken up when the relationship was at its best so she was flooded with emotions that she didn’t understand. The man who was before her every day was not the same man who had lied to her about loving her. Or maybe he was and this was all a lie, all pretend, all meant to manipulate her. Every woman has to ask herself– where is the line between being a doormat and truly forgiving someone? Oh, if life only came with an instruction manual.



The very last thing Khari wanted to do was lie to anyone, let alone Jacinda. He knew he couldn’t keep stalling on the job any longer so he made his move. “Hey, Jay, today is my last day here. I was wondering if I could call you some time and we could maybe hang out, go to a dinner, maybe catch a concert . . . Khari stopped. He realized that he sounded like the Khari of old. “OK, check it. I would just love to hang out with you. You can decide what you want to do. I will be happy just spending time with you.



“I’m having a few friends over on Saturday. You’re welcome to come over if you want.” The words left her mouth before she realized what she had said. Her brother was going to be there. The same brother who swore he would kill Khari if he ever ran across him again. Her girlfriends were going to be there. The same girlfriends who had been there for her when she couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and who had counseled her to just let him go. She wanted to rescind the offer the second she made it. The look of pure bliss on Khari’s face made her weak.



“Cool. What time? What do you need me to bring? Do you live in the same place? I remember how to get there.” To say Khari was elated was an understatement. In the time since the shooting, he hadn’t been this excited about anything, about any woman. He was physically aroused and it had nothing to do with wanting to have sex. He just wanted to be in her presence, to soak up her energy. He wanted to show her that he was the better man that he had pretended to be with her those many years ago.



Jacinda had prepared everyone that Khari was coming and EVERYONE voiced their concerns, shock, and utter disbelief that she would invite him. Her brother and father and several male friends huddled in the corner and planned on when and how to beat his ass. He had caused Jacinda to cry more tears than anyone should have to shed over one person. The female contingent of the party, the very same women who told her over and over again that she needed to ignore his emotional immaturity and hold on to him because no man was ever going to be sensitive and the best she could hope for was someone to pay the bills and not bring drama home were the women telling her NOW how she could do so much better. It was extremely humiliating for Jacinda to have to explain to people why should would even give him the time of day, let alone invite him over. She wasn’t even sure she knew why herself. She wasn’t thinking about tomorrow, she wasn’t thinking about next week. All she was thinking about was the moment and something in her spirit told her that forgiving him meant accepting his offer of an olive branch. What was to happen after that, she decided just to let spirit guide her.



Jacinda had reserved the courtyard in her apartment complex for the day. There were card tables, a volleyball net, a pool, and there was FOOD everywhere. Jacinda had recruited every food stylist, every reality show chef champion, executive chef, and every restaurant owner she knew to contribute food for the day. She had personally been cooking for months, freezing things and storing them at work. By the time Khari had actually gotten up the nerve to show up, the party was in full swing. He bought two cases of his favorite beer and made a beeline for her brother. They had met before when he and Jacinda were dating and he had liked him. Khari knew he had to fight that fire first. If someone had done to his sister what he had done to Jacinda, he would have shot him in the back without blinking an eye. This time, he came prepared with a speech and he pulled JJ to the side. No one could tell what was being said but all eyes were on them. Finally, Khari extended his hand to JJ, and JJ leaned in close, whispered something, and walked away, leaving him hanging. JJ and his crew huddled. They kept their eyes on him all day but they didn’t cause any trouble.



The party was great. Jacinda was her usual, vivacious, bubbly, charming self. There was a DJ and the music kept everyone festive. The food couldn’t have been better, the alcohol kept everyone in a light mood without getting out of control. As the hour grew late, everyone started leaving. There was so much food to put away and Khari offered to stay and help clean up. Jacinda’s apartment fridge was regular sized so she had gotten the permission to use the walk-in at the 24 hour grocery store next door to her apartment building. She was going to donate the leftover food to a shelter but they didn’t start taking donations until 11 AM so she was going to do it in the morning. It was almost 2 in the morning before everything had been cleaned up. Everyone else had long since gone home but Khari was there, not complaining a bit, working like a Hebrew slave.



“Jay, that was an outstanding party. Thank you for inviting me. I had a really nice time. It means a lot to me.” He reached out and gave Jacinda a hug. Their bodies touched for the first time since the fateful night of their one year anniversary. It was an innocent hug. Khari pulled her body close and put his hands on her back where he was sure it couldn’t be interpreted as inappropriate or sexual in any way. Her curves felt exquisite and her familiar scent reminded him of days gone by. He closed his eyes and he was in awe of the softness and warmth of her body. Jacinda relaxed into his arms like she had always belonged there. Electricity and sparks and chemistry were flying every damn where. They could have put on a fireworks show for the 4th of July all by themselves. This wasn’t just lust; this was something bigger.



Khari backed away as he felt his body react to the proximity and softness of Jacinda’s. She was not at all oblivious to the intense physical chemistry that was happening. She took a minute to collect her thoughts. “Hey, it’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired. If you want, you can sleep on the sofa until the morning.”



An invitation like that would have been like taking candy from a baby for the old Khari. But he really was a different guy; he really was trying to do the right thing for once in his life. He declined the offer and went home alone. The old Khari would have had someone on standby to talk to on the phone to stroke his ego while stroked his member by the time he got home. The new Khari went home and held his pillow tight and remembered the sensation of that hug. He reminisced about the sounds Jacinda made when she was turned on and the way her body reacted when she was in the throes of an intense orgasm. He closed his eyes and he could see the ugly faces she made when she was getting fucked and how much it had turned him on. Mostly, he thought about how she had tried so very hard to make him open up and be honest and more comfortable in his own skin and how he had resisted her attempts. He had a momentary feeling of shame but he stopped, reflected on how far he had come on his journey towards healing and he drifted off to a sweet slumber with the word Jacinda on his lips.



It was barely 8 AM when the doorbell rang and Jacinda shuffled to the door wearing her fuzzy slippers and her ratty bathrobe and a look on her face that clearly communicated, “Seriously? Seriously? I’m so sleepy I can’t even form words. If I could form words, I would be cursing you out for knocking on my door at quarter to God forbid in the morning.”



“Gooooood morning, sunshine.” Khari had coffee, juice, muffins, a dozen eggs, maple bacon, lox, bagels, cream cheese, fresh fruit, pastry and more in hand. He had enough food to feed an army.



Words that sounded similar to, “What are you doing here at this hour?” came out of Jacinda’s mouth.



“Water your dues in years, Eisenhower? Alrighty then, I see you are still not a morning person, Jay. That’s OK, you go get a shower. I’ll start breakfast.”



The smell of cinnamon rolls baking when she got out of the shower brought Jacinda back to life. She made her way back to the kitchen. Khari looked comfortable there. “Good morning,” she said, a bit more intelligible this time.

He handed her a cup of coffee. “I couldn’t remember if you liked Hazelnut or Amaretto creamer so I took a chance and went with Amaretto. How’d I do?”



She took a sip. Her taste buds came alive and she felt the warmth of the fluid travel down to her stomach. The jolt from the caffeine would come a bit later but the smell and the taste were like heaven to her. “What are you doing here?” she asked again, this time coherent and clear.



“Well, I figured you have a ton of food to take to the homeless shelter this morning and what would take you 5 or 6 trips in your girly little hybrid scooter would take us 1 trip in my manly-man monster truck. So, here I am. Oh shit, you’re going to make me burn the bacon. Do you have cheese for the eggs? Never mind, I’ll find it myself. Go, go, go. Set the table and leave me be while I finish.”



Breakfast was a feast made for a queen. They sat and ate heartily, like they hadn’t eaten in weeks rather than the few hours it had been since the party. As the blood started pumping and the caffeine kicked in, Jacinda blurted out, “Hey, what did you say to my brother yesterday?”



Khari froze for a moment and then looked Jacinda in the eye. “I told him that I loved you and that I was going to do whatever it took to get you back.” Khari was telling the truth in more ways than one. He was confessing his truths and revealing himself in a way that made him vulnerable and afraid. That was a greater truth than he had ever known.



Jacinda’s eyes searched the room, looking for something to focus on to keep her from crying. She remembered the hurt and she wanted to lash out, to hit him, but she sat frozen for a few minutes. Khari let her process. “What did he say to you?”



“He told me that if I hurt you again that he would kill me.”



Jacinda gave a nervous chuckle and went back to eating. After a few minutes of awkward silence she spoke up. “You know, I don’t want you back. You lied to me about loving me and I can never trust you again. I . . .” Her voice crackled and trailed off.



Khari grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to the sofa. He sat next to her and tilted her chin up with his finger. He wanted her to look at him. “Jay, I didn’t lie to you about loving you. I lied to myself. I have been walking around broken and insecure and immature my whole life. When I met you, I pretended to be someone I wasn’t to impress you and get you into bed because that’s what I did. I did, most certainly love you, however. Thing is, I didn’t know how to love you the way you needed because I didn’t love myself. Truth be told, I still don’t know how to love myself but I’m working on it every day and I’m getting there. When we were together, I felt like you were too good for me. No matter how honest I was with you, no matter how many times I fucked up, you would look at me with these eyes that told me you saw something greater in me. I didn’t know how to handle that. I only knew how to handle women who worshipped and adored the fake me.”



“With other women,” he continued, “I could lie and pretend and they didn’t dig any deeper, they didn’t ask anything of me other than a romantic dinner and a hot fuck. I didn’t feel worthy of you because I felt this ugly part of me inside was just going to end up coming out and when you finally saw the real me, you would stop loving me. The thought of that scared the shit out of me. No matter how much ugly came out of me, no matter how many lies I revealed, you kept finding something beautiful to love about me. I was afraid. You were so close to the real me, too close for comfort. I had run out of beautiful parts and I was afraid you wouldn’t look at me with the same magic in your eyes when you saw the ugly, real parts of me. I didn’t know how to deal with that level of insecurity so I did the only thing I knew how to do, hurt you before you had a chance to hurt me. I loved you, Jay, more than you will ever know. I just didn’t feel worthy of your love and I fucked it up and I did heinous things and I will be forever sorry. I did love you but you have to know that I loved you in a way that I just didn’t know how to deal with.”



Jacinda was crying hysterically again, just like the last time they shared time and space in her apartment, the night he walked out and crushed her heart. Khari got up and cleared the table. He came back and took her hand as he stood over her, “I’m leaving now. I don’t want to hurt you; I don’t want to see you cry. I’m so very sorry. But, Jay, I am going to come back. I’m going to keep coming back until you tell me to leave you the hell alone. I’m going to do everything I can to capture your heart this time and do it sincerely, not for you but for me. I want to feel deserving of seeing that sparkle in your eyes when you look at me; I want to feel worthy of being the man that you love.”



Khari didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want her to hear the door close like she had heard over two and a half years ago on that fateful night. He wanted to give her space and time to process so he left that morning but he had promised her that he would be back and he was going to keep that promise.



Feeling overcome with emotion, Jacinda curled up on the sofa and cried for hours. She couldn’t stop crying. By the time she had gotten herself together it was well past noon. He grabbed her car keys and ran downstairs to get the food to take to the shelter. It really was going to take her multiple trips in her small car because there was so much food. The guy there said, “Oh man, some guy came by a few hours ago and took all the food. I hope I didn’t . . . oh man, I’m so sorry ma’am. I thought he was with you.” She reassured him that everything was fine. At that moment, she got a text. It was a picture of a homeless man with a huge plate of food and a ridiculously huge grin on his face. She wanted to text back and say thank you but she didn’t, she couldn’t. She was terrified that this was just another emotional manipulation, a lie in the grand scheme of life and love.



Over the course of the next few months, Khari worked his way back into Jacinda’s life. He invited her to go to counseling with her. They went. Khari was making revelations and disclosures she was 100% certain that the Khari of old wasn’t capable of doing. This new man was working on self-acceptance in all facets of his life, embracing the light and the dark within him, he was unselfish, most importantly, he was taking responsibility for his actions and handling constructive criticism well. It was almost impossible for Jacinda to wrap her head around all of it. All her life, she’d been told that men weren’t capable of this sort of behavior and here she was, seeing it in front of her eyes.



While they were growing closer week after week, month after month, they still hadn’t gotten back together. It was almost as if they were becoming more like brother and sister or best friends than boyfriend and girlfriend. There was no kissing, hand-holding was a no no, there was no cuddling and there wasn’t even the discussion of sex. Well, there wasn’t the discussion of sex between the two of them. Khari made sure he was pretty open and honest about other lovers in his life. He was acknowledging his very human need for physical intimacy and he was truthful about his affairs. That was a first.



Sex is a human drive and almost all the trouble Khari had gotten into in life was based on his deceitful pursuit and abject denial of it so he had a new attitude. Going forward, he was going to be safe in all his physical and emotional choices. He had a friend, Tina, whose husband had died and she wasn’t ready for an emotional relationship but she didn’t want to go forgo her sexual self until she was ready either. He didn’t lie to her, he didn’t pretend she meant the sun, and the moon, and the stars to him. He didn’t use her; he simply maintained a connection with her that allowed them both erotic release without feeling used and without all the “taboo” triggers that used to stimulate Khari so much. Khari was completely upfront with Tina that his true love interest was Jacinda and that the minute she was ready for a physical relationship things between them would have to end. The same understanding stood in reverse and Khari was comfortable with it.



As for other lovers in Jacinda’s life, she wasn’t as forthcoming. She would tell Khari when she had a date and she would answer truthfully when he would ask if the date ended in intimacy or not. She didn’t want to share too many more details because she would have had to admit that every time she’d had sex since Khari had come back into her life, she’d fantasized about him. Every time she was aroused, her thoughts would drift back to Khari. In fact, there weren’t many instances she could remember since she saw him on that ladder at work that she hadn’t fantasized about him when she was masturbating.



Things were at a stalemate for Jacinda and Khari. They had been spending more and more time together for the better part of six or seven months maybe. She’d stopped going to therapy sessions with him because she was convinced he was sincere in his efforts to grown. Khari could spend the night on her sofa any time he wanted and she had an open invitation to spend the night with him but she made it clear that she was more comfortable sleeping in her own bed. Khari knew that it was time to make a move. They had gotten to a place where she could sit a little closer on the sofa without Jacinda breaking out into tears but there was still no romance.



With the weekend cleared of plans, Khari invited Jacinda over for a day of hanging out, nothing special planned, just whatever they wanted. Jacinda jumped at the opportunity. Khari sent her a text early Saturday morning saying, “out runng errnds. will lve bck door open. come ovr whn u wake up.” True to her nature on any day that didn’t include employment, Jacinda would rise at the crack of noon to greet the day. She showered and put on as many layers as she could to brave the elements and headed over to Khari’s.



She parked her car in the driveway behind his truck. She wasn’t sure if his truck being there meant he was back from running errands or not. She decided to use the back door per his instructions. Placing her hand on the knob and twisting, the door opened immediately. She took off her coat, hat, scarf, and gloves and hung them on the hooks near the back door. As she came through the sun room and into the kitchen, she saw something she had never seen before. Khari was standing at the stove, fixing God only knows what, wearing just boxer briefs. He smiled at her nervously and said, “Oh, hey, you’re here. Good, I’m glad to see you. Did you have lunch yet?”



Jacinda was dumbfounded. “OK, wait a minute. Wait one minute. What’s going on here? Why are you not wearing a stitch of clothing other than your underwear in the middle of the afternoon . . . in the kitchen? Help me understand this.”



All Khari could do was laugh. He was sure that the sight of someone in their underwear in their own home wouldn’t be that strange of a sight for most people but for him it was a very foreign concept. “I wanted to try something new. If it offends you, I can go put on some clothes.”



“NO!” Jacinda blurted out almost too quickly, “Uhmmm, I mean, no, that’s fine with me as long as you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable.”



“Good, glad that’s settled. You hungry? Lunch is almost ready. You can head downstairs and find something to watch on TV if you want. Jacinda headed downstairs. The fireplace was roaring and the coffee table already had hors d’oeuvres beautifully laid out.



Before she knew what she was saying, Jacinda heard herself mumble, “My baby is an aspiring food stylist,” under her breath. It was true in many ways. One of the things they had in common was their love of food. That couldn’t be denied. And it was also very true that Khari was her baby. They were a couple; they just hadn’t consummated it again. Yet. She settled on a marathon of Spike TV’s Deadliest Warrior. They had this thing where they would pick opposing sides and each try to cheer their warrior to victory except if they were both creepy warriors. On those episodes, they just watched for the blood, and guts, and gore. By the time she was settled on the sofa and snacking on some warm, sinfully-delicious bites of something that had been prepared, Khari was bringing a tray with more food than they would ever be able to eat in one night.



“Man, I turned the heat up to 75 and I have the fireplace going and you are still dressed like you are ready to trek over the frozen tundra. I thought by now you’d be out of some of those clothes.” Jacinda started looking around for her purse in a frantic search. Khari inquired what she was doing.



“Are you serious? I’m calling the police. OBVIOUSLY, you are some sort of imposter. Who are you and what have you done with the real Khari? You must be some sort of alien who’s taken over his body . . . his very gorgeous body,” she added slyly. She settled down on the sofa. “I didn’t plan on staying so I didn’t bring a change of clothing so I’m afraid this is what you get.”



“Man, this really isn’t working is it? I invited you over here today because I want you to be more comfortable in my home. I want us to see if we are ready to go to the next level. I want you, Jay and I’m trying to take steps towards that. If you don’t want me, please just say so because I don’t want to make a fool of myself but I don’t want to play games with you either. I want to be your man, in every sense of the word and I’m doing my best to show you that. We can take it as slow . . .”



Jacinda silenced him with a soft, small kiss on the lips. “I’m ready to take things to the next level. I’m scared but I’m ready.”



Jacinda stood back. She felt awkward but empowered at the same time. First, she took off her sweater and folded it neatly and placed it on a chair. Then came her turtleneck and another tank top underneath. Boots, socks, and jeans came off in succession and finally tights. She stood there, her body molded like a sculpture in sensuality, in her simple teal green bra and matching panties. All Khari could do was stare in awe. He never thought he would get this close to Jacinda again so this was overwhelming. His heart was racing and it felt like it was going to pop out of his chest. He pulled her close and closed his eyes. He waited. He held his breath and he waited.



Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he felt her soft, full, sensuous lips press gently against his. He opened his mouth slightly and melted into the kiss. She tasted like strawberry wetness, her tongue dancing over his sent shivers down his spine. The soft moans, the sounds of purring that she made ignited his passions that much more. He stopped her and tried to collect his thoughts for a minute. He was aroused and he didn’t know how fast or slow she wanted to take things. For Khari, he had been waiting for this since he had the revelation in counseling. He was past ready. He wanted to make love to her on the sofa right then and there. But he respected that he had fucked up so majorly before that he would wait until his lady was comfortable.



They ate lunch, watched TV, and snuggled. Even though it was plenty warm enough, they cuddled under a blanket, their bodies rubbing against each other. Khari wasn’t at all shy about letting her feel his arousal; he wanted her to know that she turned him on. Because Jacinda had always been the more comfortable sexually of the two, she was enjoying every second of this erotic play. She gave up the pretense of watching TV and took his hands and guided them to her full breasts. He massaged her full, sensitive breasts which made Jacinda wet immediately. She was in no rush so she just luxuriated in the sensations. She wasn’t sure how far things would or could go. Everything seemed to be rushing ahead but happening at the perfect pace at the same time somehow.



As the afternoon wore into the evening, Jacinda asked politely if they could turn off the TV and just spend time together talking. Khari couldn’t reach for the remote fast enough. The glow of the fireplace was their only source of illumination and while it provided warmth, it certainly wasn’t their only source of heat. In the silence of the night, with just the sounds of the cold winter’s wind howling outside to serenade them, they began a journey towards real intimacy.



Khari laid back on the sofa, his head propped up by pillows. Jacinda slid between his legs and rested her back against his stomach. He wrapped his arms and legs around her tightly because he was afraid she was going to slip away. They covered themselves in the blanket and started talking. Jacinda had so many questions; mostly questions about what was real and what had been a lie in their relationship before. Khari was in scary territory. He had to remember that lying was his natural state and he didn’t want to fall off the wagon so to speak. His heart was starting to pump faster. He could easily lie, he could easily say what he thought she wanted to hear and she would believe him. He’d done it 1000 times, hell; he’d done it 100 times or more with her. He took a deep breath, thought about the burning sensation he felt when the cold blade of steel pierced his flesh, and he started opening up.



At first, Jacinda asked him questions about little things he had lied about, lies that she had caught him in but that he had vehemently denied. Everything in his body was telling him to lie. But as his adrenaline pumped, he swallowed hard and said, “I know you might never want to talk to me again after I tell you this but it’s a chance I’m going to take. Remember that weekend and it was your sister’s birthday and I told you that I had to have dinner with my family that weekend? Well, I just wanted to be alone. I didn’t want to see you, I didn’t want to hang out with your family, I didn’t have plans with my family so I lied. I’m sorry.”



Jacinda kissed the back of his hand. “I knew it.” She paused for a brief second and said, “Thanks for coming clean about that. I really appreciate it.”



Khari was waiting for the other shoe to drop, he was waiting for the irrational neck-bobbing monster he was sure was going to attack him to come out and start cursing and screaming. But nothing happened. Jacinda didn’t budge. She was still there, between his legs, cuddling and snuggling, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was still aroused. Her nipples were hard as little pebbles beneath her bra and he thought he could detect the faint scent of her wetness. “Go ahead, you can ask me some more. I promise to tell the truth.” he said tentatively.



Jacinda fired off more questions and they seemed to get progressively more difficult for Khari to answer but the more he realized that she was not trying to filet him, the more he felt relieved to get everything off his chest. And if he was being honest with himself, there was something making him feel . . . turned on by telling the truth. The more he would reveal, the more Jacinda would kiss and caress his body. He craved her touch. He wanted more. Soon, he was associating telling the truth with pleasurable sensations. Her hands on his thighs, her full, round ass rubbing against his slightly engorged dick, her lips playfully sucking his fingers; Jacinda was rewiring his brain. Khari was in a heightened state of arousal. The more honest he was with Jacinda, the more she would do subtle things to get him more aroused. His brain was re-learning to associate telling the truth with pleasure.



They continued and Jacinda asked about the women he was with after they broke up. She wanted to know details, really intimate details. Khari felt afraid and comfortable at the same time. He kept telling the truth and Jacinda kept listening, calmly, without exploding. At one point, she was touching and caressing him and her hand touched “the scar”. Khari froze. It was a reminder to both of them of his past. Jacinda didn’t flinch; she just kept asking questions sweetly and gently touching his sensitive spots.

I felt a lot of things for Mario. Jealousy was the salient emotion that flowed through me as I walked the halls that led to the gymnasium of his private school.



Far from the gunshots and drug needles that surrounded my school, St. Peters Academy was also one of the top high school basketball programs in the country. The glass trophy case, filled end to end with gold, made sure every visitor knew it when they came to a game.



Basketball program wasn’t the best way to describe it. Basketball factory was more like it. They had recruiters that scoured the state looking for 11 year old kids that looked like they could grow into elite high school athletes.



They were good at what they did, routinely sending most of their senior class to college on basketball scholarships, a few of them to Division 1 powerhouses like Kentucky and UCLA.



At St. Peters Academy, there were only 3 seasons. Spring, Summer, and Basketball season. And the playoffs were like Christmas eve for the hundreds of fans that came to watch their team play.



I wasn’t one of them. But I was amongst them, sitting in a sea of red and black team colors, except I was wearing a Blue Jacket. I was there to support my on/off again friend. His team had lost in the playoffs the previous 3 years. He was now a senior. This was his last chance to go out a champion. To cement his legacy. To live up to the potential those recruiters saw in him 5 years ago.



He was one of the most sought after high school players in the country, after making All State and All American by several national basketball magazines. But at a school like St. Peters, championships are the measuring stick for greatness.



Mario stepped on the court to a thunderous roar as people that didn’t know him cheered. Glancing around the gymnasium, I immediately spotted the college coaches who were in attendance for this incredibly hyped basketball game. They weren’t the only people there for something other than enjoying what was suppose to be fun and games.



I could point out the gamblers, who had thousands riding on the game. I could point out the groupies, who were looking for meal tickets. And then there was the press, just hoping they could get the perfect quote or picture.



Everyone wanted something from him, me included.



The game started with St. Peters taking the early lead, with Mario leading the way. Layups. Dunks. Jumpsots. He did it all offensively. I clapped as he scored his points, and thought back to how things used to be.



We were both stars on our middle school basketball teams. We overwhelmed those poor kids that we played, dribbling and driving past them with ease. We’d be winning games by 30 and 40 points by halftime. We won our league three years in a row, and caught the attention of local high school papers, who called us the next great basketball stars in our area.



It was ball that brought us close together as friends.



We balled every day. Before school. After school. Weekends. Summers. Our hobby became our passion, and that passion became an obsession. Though we were friends that always talked about going to high school and college together, and winning championships as a duo, it was only natural that we became rivals. We were the same height. Same position. Same city. There could only be one best player in the city. And we both wanted to be better than each other.



I knew his game. He knew my game. We were intense competitors, often playing one on one matches on the playgrounds that turned into fist fights because of how much we trash talked.



More often that not, I won those matchups. I was just a step quicker. A bit stronger. A tad more skilled. I was the MVP of our AAU team. I was the one that many expected to become a superstar.



The summer before high school changed our fates.



By halftime in the playoff game, Mario had scored 19 points and also had 5 steals. St. Peters was up by 7 and looking like the better team. Mario spotted me before he ran off the court into the lockeroom and gave me a nod. I nodded back. He didn’t smile. He never did on the court. But I could tell he was glad to see me giving him support. He hadn’t exactly given me the same support. But there were reasons for that.



Ball brought us close together. We shared the same dream. Both talked about playing in the NBA, and making enough money to bring our families out of the ghetto. We’d joke about which celebrity we’d end up dating. He always chose Sanaa Lathan. I always chose Gabrielle Union.



We lost our virginity in bunk-beds. Him on the bottom bed with a girl named Cassandra. Me on the top bed with her cousin Tia. When his dad got locked up, me and him took the bus ride four hours away to go see him, skipping school in the process. When my mom and her boyfriend argued late at night, I’d walk across the street to Mario’s house. He’d give me his bed and take the floor.



We were best friends. But things were always more complicated than that.



St. Peters held their lead in the third quarter, thanks to Mario. The opposing team could not guard him, even with double teams. After a beautiful play where Mario dribbled twice between his legs before crossing over his defender and driving to the basket for a powerful dunk, the entire gymnasium erupted. My ears were ringing. I was clapping. I was happy for my friend.



St. Peters went into the fourth quarter up by 9. I tried to watch the game, but I was really only watching Mario. Every move he made was mesmerizing to me, only because I knew them like I knew the back of my hand. I’d watched him practice these moves every day. I’d helped him hone his skills. I’d beaten those same skills in head to head games.



One in particular was that summer where our fates changed. We were playing a game of one on one at the local playground. This was the kind of court where only the most skilled players could play. The blacktop was cracked. The goals had no nets. The backboard was flimsy. There was a double rim, which meant every shot had to be perfect or else it would bounce right on out.



He was trying his usual moves. But at that time, he was smaller than me. Slower than me. He had to be perfect to beat me. And who is ever perfect?



The game got fierce because girls were watching us from the bleachers. We were shirtless, sweaty and exhausted after playing for hours in the 100 degree summer sun. The thick, hot air took a backseat to the tension between us.



He trash talked about my mom. I trash talked about his dad. He called me a bitch after he scored. I called him a punk after I scored. We were trying to get each other off of our game, just to win a game of pride.



I was going in for the game winning shot when he pushed me. Street ball is physical. You rarely call fouls, especially on a game point shot. I hit the hard concrete, and high on adrenaline, jumped up and punched him. He punched me back. We wrestled on the ground before the fight was broken up by a fat dude with a backwards hat.



He had been watching us play. He saw us for what we could be. He said he was looking for players for a 2-week long basketball camp up state. College basketball coaches would be there. A good performance at the camp could go a long way towards getting recruited.



We were only 13, but the opportunity sounded too good to pass up. Fights between us weren’t abnormal, so we got some Gatorade, went to his house and played video games while talking about going to the basketball camp.



High off raw excitement and caught in the adolescent stage of mutual exploration, we kissed each other on the sofa for what felt like hours. I don’t remember much about what I was thinking. It was if I blacked out while we were making out. I remember enjoying it, but feeling confused and guilty when it was over. There was no logical explanation for why it had happened. Two black kids kissing each other for no reason didn’t make sense to me. Trying to make sense of it overpowered the fact that I had enjoyed it. I think he was feeling the same.



He looked at everything but me. I tried to find a subject to talk about. We started talking about basketball camp.



Mario avoided hanging with me for weeks after that. I also found out I wouldn’t be allowed to go to the camp. My mom needed me to help with bills and had gotten me a job as a lifeguard at the pool.



Mario ended going to basketball camp, and catching the eye of both college and high school recruiters. Our paths were altered. He came back from the camp with a scholarship offer to attend St. Peters. His mom saw the benefit, so she enrolled him, and they moved out of the city the next month. I often wonder where they got the money to move, though the mystery isn’t all that hard to piece together.



We’re not kids anymore. He’s 6’2″, 180 lbs. I’m 6’0, 175 lbs. He’s the star for a team that is routinely featured on the front page of the newspaper. I’m the star for a city high school that barely gets a blurb on the back-page of the sports section. My team’s exit from the playoffs was met with apathy. His would be met with tears.



It always amazes me how a crowd of individuals becomes a single entity during a game. Sharing the same highs and lows, cheers and boos. I was surrounded by nervous energy that suffocated the gym as St. Peters lead was cut to 4 in the 4th quarter. I realized Mario hadn’t been playing as well. He was forcing his shot. He looked frustrated. The crowd could sense that his confidence was fading as the score became more and more uncomfortable for the home team.



And then it happened. The visiting team hit a three pointer late in the 4th to take the lead for the first time. It started to sink in that St. Peters could actually lose the game. I looked at the clock. It was only 2 minutes left. Everyone in the building knew the ball was going to Mario. Pressure.



I watched him dribble and shoot. He missed and his shoulders deflated. His confidence was completely gone. The opposing team scored again and went up by 3. Mario dribbled down the court again. His fate in his hands. The emotions of everyone in the building resting in the tips of his fingers. He passed it to a teammate, who made the open shot. St. Peters was now only down by one.



The crowd chanted defense. I became swept into the wave. I cheered for my friends team. I couldn’t stomach seeing him fail. I loved him too much to wish that upon him.



The visiting team missed the shot and Mario grabbed the rebound. Seconds ticked away. People held their breath. I mumbled a prayer to God.



Mario drove to the basket and was fouled with only seconds remaining in the game. He had two free throw attempts. One make would tie the game and send it into overtime. Two makes would win the game.



Mario stepped to the line. I could see his legs shaking, tension swelling beyond belief. An eerie silence overtook the once loud gym. He wiped sweat from his brow and bounced the ball twice before exhaling. I wondered what he was thinking.



Was he thinking about the days we’d shoot hundreds of free throws, practicing for a moment like this? When I’d make pretend to be a broadcaster, commentating on the game.



“Mario Berry, steps to the line. 2 free throws. For the NBA championship. If he makes them, he’s a champion. If he misses, he’s a loser.”



Then I’d make crowd noises. He’d calmly dribble and sink the shots, holding up his arm like Michael Jordan after the perfect swish. He could make 100 free throws in a row. I know he could. I’d seen it with my own two eyes. This should have been routine for him. But practice rarely prepares you for the actual moment of truth.



His first shot bounced off the front of the rim. The crowd reacted in disbelief. Mario looked at the bench of the opposing team, who were celebrating. I knew they were trash talking. And I knew it was affecting him. I knew what made him tic.



He dribbled the ball again. Fans around me held hands. I imagined the ball going in several times. Mario froze for a few seconds, as if he was looking for the courage to release the shot. It finally left his fingers with the perfect flick, from the perfect form.



It landed on the back rim, bounced against the backboard, and spun off to the side, as the clock expired. St. Peters had lost.



I felt nauseous. I was also ashamed of myself for being jealous.



The fans had been cheering him as if he was a God. Now they were booing as if he was a joke. The line was that thin.



“I’m glad he’s graduating. He always chokes,” one fan behind me said as we started exiting the gym.



“He definitely underachieved,” someone else said. “Good player, but never reached his potential. You can’t teach losers how to win.”



I waited for Mario after the game with his mom, younger brother, and uncle. He came out of the locker room with a hat hanging low over his face, hoody up. He hugged his mother. She told him she was proud. His uncle said he played a hell of a game. They tried to encourage him. But there is little you can say to someone who has just disappointed so many people that believed in him.



He turned to me, eyes red from the tears that had been shed. We embraced. I hugged him longer than his mother did. I didn’t tell him anything. I wasn’t going to lie to him by telling him nice things. I just wanted him to know I was there. For better. For worse.



He could have rode home with his family, but he said he wanted to catch up with me. We hadn’t seen each other in months. We got in my car. He started cursing. Pointing fingers, trying to find logic in his defeat.



“Stupid ass refs were blowing calls all game,” he complained. “It shouldn’t have even come down to that, Wesley.”



“Yeah, there were some fucked up calls,” I agreed.



“They were hacking us every play, kid. Every fucking play. And don’t get me started on our coaches. Had us trying to slow it down instead of being up tempo like we were the first half. Its fucking stupid. Stupid ass gameplan that cost us.”



I drove, letting him blow off stream that needed to be released. His diatribe went on for awhile, but when he ran out of people to blame, he exhaled slowly and looked at me.



“Wes, I blew it. I really blew it.”



“You carried that team all season. They wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”



“I have made that shot a million times. A million times. I shoot free throws every day. Every day, just for that moment. And I blew it. In front of the fans. The coaches. The recruiters. My family. You.”



“You ain’t have to prove it to me.”



“Did you see my dad? Over on the left on the gym.”



“I saw him.”



“He left after I missed the shots.”



“I saw that.”



He looked at me. We spoke many things through our eyes. He shook his head and laughed bitterly.



“I bet if I woulda made em, he would have at least said something to me after the game. I dunno why I was excited that he came to the game.”



“That man is lost, Mario. Don’t carry the weight of his flaws.”



“Fuck-um’. Never needed him before. Won’t need him going forward.”



“He’s the one missing out, bruh.”



He nodded. We’d always related to our fatherless homes.



“I’m glad you came through. I really appreciate it,” he said to me, after we’d given his venting a moment of silence.



“No doubt. Even though it’s kinda fucked up you didn’t come see me.”



“I’ve been busy kid. But that’s my fault. I should have been there. I followed it though. Read bout it in the paper. I saw you made the All Tourney Team.”



“Not quite All American,” I said sarcastically, “but it works.”



“You decided on where you going?” he asked.



“I don’t got the offers you have. I’m prolly just gonna end up staying local. You?”



“I haven’t told anyone yet. So keep it between me and you. But I’m going to sign with Georgetown. I want to get away from home. This area. I need to get away from here.”



I listened to him talk about their offense, and how he fit into it, but all I could really concentrate on was knowing he was going to be so far away. It made me reflect on all the empty talk we had as kids about playing ball together in college. The memories reminded me that things had changed so much with us. He was headed to a major college basketball powerhouse. I was likely headed to a division 2 school. I tried to be happy for him, but I failed.



“Mario, why haven you been avoiding me the past few months? I call. Don’t get a call back. No text. I mean, what? I’m pose to be your boy.”



He hesitated before answering. I stared into him while we were at the red light. Our breath was blowing like smoke from the freezing air. His dark brown eyes looked like glass, ready to break at any moment.



“Just alotta pressure man. I just been dealing with alotta pressure. My fault though. It ain’t like I don’t wanna talk or hang with you. You’re my boy.”



“Now you’re going all-la-way out to D.C.”



“We’ll still hang, Wes. I promise that, kid.”



Though we weren’t speaking things out loud, our words had esoteric meaning. We just were afraid to acknowledged the truth. Our high school years found us growing apart as friends, but closer as something else. When we’d hang, we’d end up making out or experimenting with mutual masturbation. Then he’d go months without talking to me, until we met up again to play ball, or go to a movie, and fooling around in the backseat of a car.



It had never gone beyond kissing and masturbation, but that wasn’t the point. There was a sexual chemistry developing between us that we never talked about. Our episodes were never planned, they just happened, as naturally developing as our fist fights.



But there was an aftertaste. It was very bitter, maybe even disgusting for him. He was far from being in a space where he could admit to being bisexual. He was far more reluctant to initiate touching than I was. We would play with our dicks while kissing, and as soon as he’d cum, he was quick to pull up his pants and want to get away from me. It was shameful, and embarrassing, and ugly. But it was something we couldn’t stay away from for too long.



“I missed just chillin with you,” I said, trying not to sound too needy. “I know it will be less of that when we actually do go off to college.”



“Like I said, we’ll do that. You don’t think I miss hanging with you? You’re prolly the only person I can actually talk to about this shit. Someone I know who understands.”



“You talking about ball?”



“Nah, kid. Everything. Ball, and the moments in life where we wait until we play ball again. All of it.”



“You wanna talk about it now?”



“Ain’t that what we already doing?”



“Nah, I mean really talk. Where you got my undivided attention.”



We locked eyes, and he gave me a nod. I found a spot to drive off road, where we could park in seclusion to talk. I kept the car running so I could keep the heat running and we wouldn’t freeze to death.



We talked about the game some more, but I could tell where the bulk of his hurt was coming from.



“I’m tired of thinking he’ll come around,” he said. His deep voice had become weak. Full of anger and pain. “Like, maybe I’ll finally make him proud enough to wanna be there.”



“Were you thinking about that? When you took those shots?”



“It was all I could think about, kid. I had like, visions. Visions of sinking those shots, and seeing my dad run on the court, just proud, man. Like yo, this boy is mine. I know he played ball at some junior college. I dunno if he sees me and sees himself, or if he sees me and sees a paycheck.”



“Maybe he feels jealous,” I said, halfway projecting. “Maybe he sees how much better you are right now than he ever was. Maybe he battles with that. Being jealous of his kid that he wasn’t there for.”



He shrugged. “I’d take jealousy over nothing. I feel stupid for leaving that part of my heart open. Reserving it for him for when he decides to really come around. He got off drugs and I thought, yo, maybe this is it. He moved back to the city, and I’m like, maybe this is it. I become an All American and I think maybe this is it. Wesley, even if this man only came around cuz he saw that I was about to be big time, I’d still accept him in. That’s how fucked up it is. I’d even take that over nothing.”

“Who you tellin? I remember my dad used to beat on my moms when I was younger. I witnessed that shit. 5, 6, years old. Hated him for it. But still would be giddy when he came to my birthday parties. My mom finally left him, but damn if I wasn’t wishing he was still around. Ion think that shit is healthy though bruh. Those muthafuckas don’t deserve us. Gotta accept that shit.”



He nodded and looked toward the foggy windows, deep in thought. He turned back towards me smiling softly.



“Yo man, remember when we skipped school so we could go visit my dad when he was in prison? And they wouldn’t let us in cuz we ain’t have an adult?”



“Yeah. Lucky homie at the front felt sorry for our black asses.”



“Word, kid,” he laughed. “You remember, during that entire hour visiting him. We only talked about ball? That was it. I think that’s really the only thing I’ve ever talked to my dad about in detail. On some level, I think that’s why I put so much into it. Trying to get better. I dunno. Maybe if I reached a level he could appreciate, then he could finally love me or sumthin. Kinda stupid, right?”



A grin was still on his face, but a tear had broken free in his glossy eyes. Before he let it fall, he wiped it away and shook the sadness away.



“It’s not stupid.”



“Thinking that man could love me is.”



“Him coming around because of ball wouldn’t be real love anyway. A real man would love his boy, if he makes the game winning shot or misses every shot. You missed the shot, but guess what? I’m still proud of you. You’ve come a long way since them ass whoopins’ I used to lay on you on the playground.”



I tried to lighten things up with the joke, but his face remained sad. He looked at me deeply. I saw words unsaid in his fragile eyes. It’s a very rare moment when you can catch a man in a vulnerable state, where tears fall like rain. When it happens, it’s shocking. But it’s strangely beautiful. There’s poetry to the sadness.



Tears fell in long lines down Mario’s face. He turned away from me and tried to clean himself up. I grabbed him by the arm so that he could look at me.



“I’m sorry kid,” he wept. “I shouldn’t have left you hanging like that. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to handle it sometimes. I dunno what to do with myself.”



“Don’t worry about it,” I tried to comfort. He wiped away tears and cleared his throat.



When he finally had himself together he looked me in the eye.



“Thanks for being proud of me. It means a lot. You hold me down, Wes. Even when I ain’t holding you down. I know I can trust you. I know you have my back, and that’s hard to accept. Hard to find. But it means everything to me, kid, fuh-real.”



We gave each other a hug. His cheek against my cheek. His body felt nice next to mine, in the bone chilling air. We hugged for a long time. Long enough to communicate our fears and desires with touch alone. When we did pull back, certain thoughts hit me hard. I began to feel lightheaded as I moved in my seat for better position to do what I wanted to do.



I wanted to make him feel good. I wanted him to forget about the pain of the game, and all of the subtext of losing. He was aware of it. His shaking revealed how much this scared him. His breathing grew heavier, as did mine as I started reached for his waist.



He remained silent and still as I worked the belt buckle and zipper. His stomach tightened and his breathing became shallow. I opened the fly and was greeted with the imprint of his hard erection. It wasn’t the first time he’d been rock hard after we embraced but this seemed to be by far the hardest.



Just a single pull of his boxers, and his dick sprang free through the slit. We both took deep breaths at the sight of it.



There are only two types of men. Men that hide their cocks in a public locker-room, and men that don’t. I never hid myself. Mario and I were cut from the same cloth.



This was my first time, but the chemistry with Mario was so strong, that it felt natural when I placed him into my mouth for the first time. There was a certain amount of pain in my jaw as I used muscles that had previously never been used in this way. But I pushed through the pain and took more of his penis into my mouth. He was moaning loudly, even softly whispering for God at one point.



The cold snowy night added emphasis to what we were doing. His penis was so hard and warm, that it was almost like warm dessert in my mouth. The contrast of cold car and warm body made me shiver from the extremes.



I started sucking slowly, admiring the feel of his mushroom head easing down my throat. I came up for a breath, and let the built up juice escape from my lips. When I brought him back into my mouth, I slurped up the juice, and he moaned again. I hungrily enjoyed sucking his dick until he couldn’t take anymore.



When he came, I gagged from so much of cum flooding my throat at once. I did lick a lot of the sweet, warm cum up. He tasted good. Unbelievably good.



He laid back in the seat with his eyes closed for a long time. His penis never really grew soft. Eventually, I took it in my hands and started playing with it. It grew hard again as I slowly beat him off. He kept his eyes closed, but was moaning again.



I went back down for seconds, but this time alternated between sucking him and rubbing his dick up and down with my hands. I didn’t have the neck muscles to give him head exclusively, but when he was about to release again, I opened my mouth wide and he sprayed squirt after squirt of his hot cum into my mouth. I swallowed the entire load this time.



He put his penis away, and zipped up his pants. No words were spoken as I drove away from the secluded off road area.



When I dropped him off to his house, we gave each other five. We weren’t giving each other any eye contact.



“Talk to you later,” I said.



“Word. I’ll be hollering at you, kid.”



He avoided me for two years after that.



**



Mario came back to the city two summers later. After being a Big East Freshman All American his first year at Georgetown, he had shattered his knee, and was trying to rehab in order to be ready for the upcoming basketball season.



I followed his career. Watched his games of tv. Respected his privacy and didn’t bother trying to track him down. If he didn’t want to talk, I wasn’t going to force him.



We ran into each other at the movies. He was with a date, as was I. We exchanged numbers and he said he’d call me. I was surprised when he actually followed through and called me the next afternoon.



“Sup kid? I was glad I ran into you the other night. It’s been awhile, man. We should hang out while I’m in town.”



We met for lunch that day, and ended up going to a club later that night. Neither of us spoke about the last time we had been together. We’d never once discussed any of the sexual things that had ever happened. It was taboo. Hidden all the way in the back of the closet, like that ugly ass outfit you own, but are ashamed to wear.



Before I had ever sucked his dick, we were friends that had a lot in common. That fact kept us having fun as the summer heat set in. We went to amusement parks, shot pool, went swimming, and played video games, just like the old days. His knee was too weak to play any real ball, but we did a couple of shoot arounds and played horse a few times, me winning each time.



On the 4th of July, we brought home a chick from the club and had a threesome with her. She took him in the mouth. I fucked her in the pussy. It was a weird experience. There was some masculine camaraderie, as we laughed and joked about the experience afterward, but bringing sex back to the forefront of my conscious made me feel a bunch of things that I knew I couldn’t express.



I accepted Mario for who he was. But I also understood him for who he was, and I wouldn’t allow myself to get played again. I’d rather have him as a friend, than nothing.



Before the summer was over, he suggested us flying down to Florida, staying on the beach and fucking as many ‘bad bitches’ as we could. I took him up on the offer, seeing it as maybe the last time we’d get to bond for awhile.



The getaway was typical at first. We hit the beach. Hit the clubs. Brought some chicks back. Hit some blunts. Hit the pussy. Hit the bed.



Fun, but there was a giant elephant in the room that we weren’t acknowledging. We both would walk around the beach-house we rented, ass naked. And every-time we did, there were brief glances that had to send us both back to earlier moments in our friendship.



He didn’t have to say it for me to believe he would often fantasize about some of our most intense episodes of sexual exploration. Whether it be the first time he bust a nut in front of me, or the first (and only) time I sucked him off. I know I was thinking about it when I saw him walking around with his dick slanging everywhere.



A few days I walked around naked, save for a towel or something wrapped around my body. Even then, I could sometimes feel the heat of Mario undressing me with his eyes. At least that is what it felt like.



I couldn’t quite explain myself. I knew I had feelings for Mario. I was attracted to him, but it wasn’t necessarily anything physical. I was attracted to his mind, his personality. Our bond, our friendship, that really made me feel comfortable.



I would lose myself in conversation with him, losing all track of time, and anything else of importance. I really felt like I knew him. His smile. His mannerisms. What made him tic. And knowing a person that strongly created some intense ass emotions. More intense and overwhelming than any emotion I had felt for any of the many girls I had dated.



I was afraid to come to the conclusion that made the most sense. Going to that place meant opening up myself for the pain of losing it. I knew Mario well enough to know I couldn’t express these things without him closing up and fleeing. It wasn’t worth losing my friend over my feelings. So I suppressed them. Kept them dense. Avoided confronting the truth, like scared shitless teens who avoid getting tested for pregnancy because they already know they are. They can feel it deep inside them.



Toward the end of our vacation in Florida, we talked about our plans for the fall. It surprised me when his plans included inviting me to D.C. to see some of his games in person.



“Yeah kid, I can get you a ticket or two. Maybe you can bring a ‘bad bitch’ witcha to watch me play.”



“That’s wassup. I’ll have to come up there and be gone the next day, cuz I got my own season to play.”



“No doubt. You wouldn’t even have to get a hotel. You can stay with me. I got my own apartment up there.”



“Aight man, I’m counting on you. Don’t say you gon do it, and then not do it. I know how you operate.”



“What you talkin bout?”



“Ahh come on, Mario. Don’t give me no bullshit, you know what I’m talkin bout.”



“Nah, I don’t. How do I operate?”



“You’re my best friend one day. And you forget about me the next. It’s been like that since high school.”



“You gonna sit here and act like it ain’t a reason why?”



The way he said that caught me off guard. It made me angry as fuck too.



“What is the reason?” I barked.



“See, there you go. With the bullshit. You know.”



“Nah, I don’t. Tell me what the deal is.”



“I’m just sayin Wes. Y’know. It’s been some crazy stuff. No what, never-mind.”



“Why nevermind?”



“Just, nevermind, kid.”



The end to that conversation stayed with me for hours. Everytime I thought about it, I grew angry. He was implying that I was to blame for him avoiding me. As if whatever there was between us was my fault. It bothered me so much that I couldn’t even go to sleep that night. I felt weird around him, like he was looking down on me. I couldn’t take it anymore. We had to talk about it. Like grown men.



I met him on the sofa where he was watching tv. We small talked about bullshit. I told him we needed to talk about something. He muted the tv and focused on me. He looked worried. He obviously didn’t want to talk about it.



“Ima cut to the chase. I’m pissed off.”



“Why?”



“Of what you said earlier.”



“Which was?”



“You said it was a reason why you avoid me.”



“It is.”



“I’ve never avoided you afterwards.”



“Maybe you should. You don’t feel a certain way afterwards?”



“I do. And I feel a certain way before, in the middle. All the time.”



“What do you feel?” he asked, eyes focused on me.



“Feelings. For you.”



“Like what kinda feelings?”



“I dunno, man. Just feelings. I think about you. Wanna be around you. Wanna know how you’re doing.”



“Are you gay?”



“No.”



“You’re not?”



“I like women.”



“So why we having this conversation then? I love pussy. You love pussy. That other shit was just some other shit. Lets leave it at that, kid.”



“All I’m saying is, don’t blame me for it. I care about you. Stop making me feel bad because of it.”



“I’m not trying to do that. I care about you too, man. But I ain’t gay.”



” Why it gotta be a label on it? I’m not labeling shit. All I know is I have feelings for you. And I’ve felt it for a long time. The same time all of this shit between us started. Shit you never once stopped from happening.”



“I’m not gay, Wes.”



“Do you have feelings for me? Just answer that. Am I alone in feeling like this?”



“I already told you. I’m not gay.”



His statement was bold and harsh. The kind of thing you say to end a conversation. I went to my bedroom. I didn’t sleep that night. I was too hurt to sleep. A mix of anger and sadness. A lot of loneliness.



The next day, we avoided each other. As predictable as anything in our friendship. I planned to go out that night to drink and possibly fuck the pain away, but while I showered, I heard a noise from outside of my bedroom bathroom.



I peaked outside of the sliding glass door and there Mario stood watching me bathe. He was naked. Intensely focusing on me. Much like previous encounters, no words were spoken as we began to kiss each other. The big difference was both of us were naked, steaming hot water soaking our bodies as our hands explored. His body was strong, unlike anything I had ever touched so intimately.



His tongue was deep into my mouth when our erect penises began touching. He was a bit taller than me, which gave him a stronger presence, and made me feel more fragile and small. It was something I wasn’t used to in a sexual experience. But it made me feel so aware of my humanity. So alive and humble. He squeezed my ass hard as I touched the tip of his penis and continued tonging him down.



He started kissing my neck, before sucking on it. I moaned, feeling bliss sweep over every inch of me as the pleasure of the water complimented his lips and tongue.



Loving a mans body felt so different. The curves weren’t as predictable. The tension in the skin was stronger. The facial hair and masculine moans and muscles were making my legs weak. For once, I felt as if I was loving an equal, not something to be fucked. It was a liberating feeling.



“I do have feelings for you,” he whispered in my ear.



“Do you want me?” I asked, matching his low tone.



“I want you, Wes.”



“Fuck me,” I said, before I could even think about my words.



I was losing my virginity all over again. Being fucked by someone I’d grew up sharing everything with. Now I was about to share my most private spot with him. I felt lightheaded and so unbelievably horny.



His hands maneuvered me into position. I was facing the wall, back turned to him. I was bending at an angle to allow him entrance. I braced for what I figured was going to be extreme pain, while at the same time impatiently wishing for him to be inside of me.



I felt his finger touch my anus, and his other hand helping to spread my cheek. I reached my hands around me and spread my cheeks for him, so he could use his hands to hold me into place. His penis touched against my ass. I closed my eyes. I was being energized by lust.



“I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” I told him.



He exhaled quickly, as if what I said was breaking him down. He fumbled with the process, poking around the entrance before finally getting his penis pointed to the correct destination. He started pushing, and I tried to relax. There was resistance at first. My body’s attempt to hang on to it’s virginity for just a little longer. But I wanted him. I needed to feel the penetration. To connect with Mario’s body. To finally consummate this friendship that wouldn’t die.



Slowly, Mario’s penis entered me. He pushed forward. I pushed back. We worked together in completing the task. The more I took in, the more the pain showered over me. I felt so full, like I couldn’t possibly take anymore of him in my ass, but more of him was steadily being pushed in. I palmed the wall and made weird noises. He was breathing heavily, rubbing my shoulders with one hand, continuing to put his hard dick in with the other.



The process seemed to take forever. But it wasn’t anything I was wishing would be over. I wanted this moment between us to last and count towards something. Even the pain was something I wanted to last.



When he was secure inside of me, he moved his hips slowly back and forth. The movement was orgasmic inside of my asshole. My dick was poking the wall, being denied of stimulation, forcing me to derive all pleasure from my asshole.



I could feel my ass expanding as he grew harder inside of me. His thrust were slow at first, but were picking up in intensity and speed. I was over the pain of it now.



“Smack my ass,” I told him.



He smacked it, and fucked me even harder. As I palmed the wall, he placed his hands over mine. They were just a bit larger. They covered mine. Looking at our hand size difference even turned me on. Plus knowing he was restricting me from reaching down to try and masturbate as he fucked.



He ended up pulling me back from the wall, saying he couldn’t get all the way in me like he wanted. We left the shower, and ended up in the bedroom, kissing like madmen. I mounted him and climbed on top. I could feel the open gap of my butthole. There was a sense of pride I had in giving my anal cherry to Mario. But it wasn’t complete until he exploded inside of me.



He helped me onto his erection. I’d helped enough girls ride me to know what it was at least suppose to look like. But watching someone ride a bike and riding it yourself isn’t the same thing. I used his chest for leverage as I tried to ride him. Still getting used to his length (and my God, the width), and enjoying the hollowing feeling of having a penis deep inside me.



I looked down at my flapping penis and noticed cum oozing out. I was cumming, though I had yet to orgasm. I was focused on that when I felt Mario stiffen. I knew what that was. I rode him quickly, bucking like a bronco, rocking back and forth and side to side as he released everything he had inside of me. Warm cum, shooting so far inside is a feeling unlike any other.



He caught a second wind after moments of rest, and laid me on my back, spreading my legs wide. I looked into his dark eyes. “I love you,” I told him. I felt so free telling him. I’d held it for years.



He smiled and kissed me tenderly. When he was inside of me again, we locked eyes as we writhed against each others bodies. Wrapping my legs around his back, our hands gripped together, made me want to cry as he continued filling me with him. I was out of breath and energy.



He saw this and began stimulating my penis for me as he continued thrusting in and out of what he called ‘his pussy.’ It only took him a few times of calling my ass his pussy for me to shoot long, thick, hot layers of cum all over the both of us, most of it landing on my stomach and chest. He collapsed on top of me in a sticky mess of sweat and sex. We kissed. We looked in each others eyes. We said no words.



We slept after the episode. Got dressed and then went to eat. When we came back to our room we had sex again. He sucked my dick for the first time the next day, and he allowed me to enter him from the back, though neither of us got a release from it. He had more trouble taking me than I had of taking him. I figured we could work on it.

Daniel came home after a late and long day. The ‘all american’ had been cramming for his final exams, working part time at a restaurant and attending every practice for his swim-team. He had been pushed past the point of exhaustion. He glanced at his watch 1am it read. He walked into his parents house.



“Danny make sure you lock the door!” he heard his mother call.



He rolled his blue eyes and locked up as he entered the house. The 18 year old slowly climbs the stairs leading to his bedroom. Daniel entered his room without bothering to turn his lights on. He knew where his bed was with his eyes closed, he collapsed onto his bed, and drifted off to dreamland.



He found himself in the school locker room there was no doubt in his mind that he was dreaming especially since the locker didn’t smell like feet as it usually does. He walked around the locker room and into the showers. He could hear the water running and footsteps as if someone was taking a shower. In the distance is saw a female figure standing under a shower head. Daniel moved closer he watched as the girl turned around in slow motion. He smiled at the girl in his dream. It was Clara, a schoolmate who had recently moved from Brooklyn, New York to Daniel’s small hometown of Corcoran, Minnnesota. She was a petite 18 year old with almond shaped eyes the color of sable, her skin a rich burnt umber and a smile that lit up a room as well as warm it. Although she was as friendly as a puppy she hadn’t made any friends. She had accepted the fact that not only was it cause she was the new kid, in a new school she was fairly certain some may have had a problem with her race even though her schoolmates were nice enough they still never tried to build a friendship with her. Daniel was amazed to see her in his dream. He had seen her in a bathing suit a few times his eyes would trace her curves and now his mind had used those images to create what he considered to be a beautiful body.



“Hello Daniel.” She smiled as she walked towards him arms open, soaking wet and hugged him. Daniel could feel the her soft wet warm slippery body pressed against his. He looked down realizing he was naked as well he wrapped his arms around her smiling.



“Hey Clara.” she pulled away from him.



“Danny, I’ve missed you. Can you fuck my ass please right after I suck that cock of yours?”



Daniel’s mouth dropped open his cock went rock hard so fast he almost came on himself. Eyes wide he managed a nod in which Clara jumped up and down with glee clapping her hands and smiling. Daniel watched her wet perky breast bounce up and down. In the back of his mind continued to think “Don’t wake up don’t wake up.” Clara quickly dropped to her knee her angelic face looked up at him and smiled before she wrapped her warm soft full lips wrapped around his cock. Daniel could feel her tongue massaging his cock while she bobbed back and forth taking his cock deep down her throat pulling away only to suck his balls. Whenever he looked down at her she’d be looking up into his arctic blue eyes. The sight of her sweet angelic face sucking his cock sent him over the edge he let out a cry as cum poured out of his cock and down Clara’s throat. She continued to suck and swallow as he continued to cum.



She finally pulled him away and smiled “Are you going to fuck my ass?”.



Daniel smiled and nodded. Clara turned around and got on all fours her butt raised in the air like a ripe tasty apple. Steam gathered around them as he kneeled behind her.



“I oiled it up real good Danny its all yours” she said shaking her ass back and forth. Daniel’s mouth watered his cock harder than a diamond he inched closer to her and woke up.



Daniel looked around his room and screamed in agony. As in thrashed about the bed in misery he noticed his pants wet. Soaked in his on seed. “Shit!!” he said as he sucked his teeth and hopped out of bed. Daniel glanced at his watch 6am it read he didn’t even have time to rush back to sleep he had to get ready for school. He sulked about as he removed his soiled clothing, jumped in the shower and changed for school. As he left his house flashes of his dream appeared in his head his cock would tingle as he walked, her round apple ass her ebony hair drenched her warm wet skin “She smelled so good” he thought “I wonder if I could actually taste her.” His thoughts were only of his dream as he headed to school.



Clara stood outside her house. Besides the normal routine of going to school she had been in the library all afternoon well into the evening. Between studying for classes and helping the librarian catalog new arrivals she was beat. She didn’t bother looking for her house keys she rang the door and was greeted by her Dad.



“Hey pumpkin, you look exhausted.”



“I am. Let mom know that I’m gonna go straight to bed if I get hungry I’ll get a midnight snack.”



Clara’s father looked at his watch It’s only 8 o clock.”



“I know Dad but I’ve had a long day.” She climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Even though she was tired she went through her bedtime routine as always of showering the day away and deep cleaning her face. She stood under the shower letting the water drench her from head to toe. She thought about how the day went. How her classmate Daniel seemed to take more of an interest in her He asked her a million questions today every chance he could and even sat with her at lunchtime. Clara was skeptical in believing he liked her that much she took it as being friendly. ‘Maybe he figured if he was friendlier to me everyone else would be too’ she thought as she climbed out the shower. Clara’s mind drifted to Daniel again as she finished getting ready for bed. Sure he was cute, blue eyed and athletic with the stereotypical ‘all american boy’ thing going for him. Girls talked about him but they seemed to talk about any cute boy in the school with a pulse. ‘He can’t possibly be interested in me there’s so many better girls out there for him’ she thought as she climbed into bed and drifted to sleep.



Clara found herself in a classroom. ‘Oh great I’m dreaming about school’ she thought. Her hair was styled in pigtails and she seemed to be wearing a typical catholic school girl uniform, plaid skirt white top, long white socks and saddle shoes with black horn rimmed glasses. She looked around and seemed to be the only one in the classroom, suddenly someone entered. It was Daniel but he looked a bit older and dressed like a teacher. He barely looked at her as he sat down at his desk.



“Ms. Clara, welcome to detention. Are you ready for you punishment?”



Clara was puzzled. “Detention for what?”



“Your mouth young lady is dirty too dirty for an 18 year old female such as yourself.” Clara got up from her desk she looked down to see that her skirt was extremely short barely covering her ass cheeks still she walked over to Daniel.



“Fuck you.” she said slowly and clearly.



Daniel raised his hand to her face and stroked her cheek softly. “If you say so.” He smiled as he grabbed one of her pigtails and dragged her back over to her desk. He quickly bent her over. He rubbed her panty covered ass “I like your panties they’re so white and lacy” he whispered. He continued to rub her, massaging her pussy through her panties causing them to become wet. He swiftly pulled her panties down and admired what was before him. Her round little onion ass and her moist puffy pussy lips there for the taking.



Clara couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. “Fuck me Daniel, fuck my tight little ass, fuck my pussy make me scream. I’ve been so bad.”



Daniel moved behind her cock in hand he stroked it as Clara wiggled her ass back in forth in front of him. Clara moved backwards so that her pussy bumped into his cock and woke up in a sheen of sweat. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath.



“Whoa.” she whispered as she tried to calm herself down. Her nipples tightly beaded her clit stiff and swollen pressed up against her wet panties.



She glanced over at her alarm clock. 6am it said letting her know it was time to start a new day. She didn’t know what to think about the dream she experienced, she didn’t know what to think about Daniel. Rubbing her eyes and forehead she decided to push the whole thing out of her mind as she prepared for school.



Clara had been distracted all day thinking about the dream she woke up from. She also managed to avoid Daniel for most of the day. It bothered her as he had been so nice to her over the pass few days. She hurried through the school hallway, late, to her final class of the day. Most of her schoolmates were already in their own classrooms waiting for the day to end. She zipped around a corner crashing right into Daniel.



“Oh shit sorry Danny.”



Daniel smiled “No harm. I haven’t seen you all day. Where have you been hiding” Daniel asked as he looked over the girl. She wore a fitted short sleeved button down white shirt and a red plaid pleated skirt.



Clara felt flush. “Study hall and class. Well I’m off to class now. See ya later.” She started to walk away but Daniel grabbed her hand.



“Why don’t you cut class and hang with me.”



Clara laughed “Let’s not and say we did.”



“I just want to get to know you better.”



“Why so you can fuck me and tell the school you banged the black chick from brooklyn? Not interested.”



Daniel frowned a bit. “I don’t think of you like that. Just come with me. Please.”



“Where are we gonna go?”



“To my house my parents aren’t home and we’ll be in the basement anyway.”



“Great nothing like hanging in a musky basement.”



Daniel rolled his eyes and led Clara out of the school and to his car. His eyes kept drifting from the road to her shapely legs which were accented with white knee socks. The pulled into his driveway. Clara nervously exited the car. Flashes of her dream played in her head sending shock waves through her body.



“We’re gonna go through the basement entrance. Follow me.”



Clara followed him to the back of the house to the basement entrance and into the basement. Daniel turned on the lights impressing Clara. The basement was finished, soft dark blue carpeting lined the floor with dark reddish brown pain on the walls. The basement was kept as a game room with a pool table and a big screen tv hooked up to gaming consoles. Clara watched Daniel walk over to his couch he patted the cushion next to him signaling her to come sit with him. As she joined him Daniel turned on the t.v.



“So what are we gonna do?” she asked.



Daniel moved in and kissed Clara. His tongue slid between her parted lips. Clara ran her fingers through his hair. She was delirious with lust as he probed her mouth. At times he would let her breathe and suck on her neck only to reclaim her mouth. They feverishly removed each others clothes. Fumbling with buttons while placing passionate kisses on whatever part of their body they could get to. Scenes from the dreams flashed through both teens heads. It wasn’t long before they both realized they were almost naked laid out on the couch. Daniel paused and looked at Clara. Her brown eyes were filled with passion as she lay before him. Her chocolate skin was a beautiful contrast to the white lace matching bra and panty set a smile grew across her face as she reached up and stroked his face. She sat up and kissed him and guided his hands to her bra. Daniel removed her bra hands trembling he reached for her panty waistband. Clara helped him remove her panties and fished her hand into his boxers pulling out his hard dick. Her mouth engulfed his dick as her tongue ran up and down his shaft. Daniel kneeled on the couch and swayed his hips back and forth fucking her mouth as he ran his hands through her hair and tugged it a bit. Her cock hungry mouth sucked on his balls when she wasn’t bobbing her mouth on his dick. He exploded in her mouth and she deep throated him swallowing his cum and taking him down her throat. She slid her mouth off his dick with a smile.



He cupped a breast in each hand massaging and kneading as her nipples hardened. Clara moaned as he took each of her dark chocolate nipples in his mouth flicking his tongue against them while massaging her breasts. Daniel moved to lay on top of her he pressed his thigh against her pussy teasing Clara. Her juices covered his thigh. her pussy was moist sticky and wet. Daniel glided his cock into her warmth. He filled her to the hilt as she moaned they moved slowly together pulling at each other nibbling on each other. Daniel sped up plunging himself into her harder and faster. Clara gripped Daniel’s ass grinding herself up against him. Her chocolate legs wrapped around him tighter and tighter.



“Oh God!” she yelled cumming on his dick she felt the hot liquid squirt from her pussy wetness seemed to pour out of her. Daniel was overwhelmed her soaking wet warm pussy her body hot she seemed to pulsating with electricity as he came inside her. He released himself cum streaming from his cock into her pussy.



“Fuck!” he moaned as he pumped Clara full of his seed. He pulled himself off of her. “Shit I’m sorry I’m sorry.”



Clara sat up and chuckled. “Calm down its cool I’m on birth control anyway. Are we done?”



“Well umm not exactly.” Daniel paused as he looked into Clara’s face. “I’d like to fuck your ass.” He grinned.



“No! That’s……Huh….Why?”



“Well your ass is just so delicious its plump, round not too big but not little. Plus you’re hot. I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”



Clara frowned at the whole idea. She pulled her knees to her chest and laid her chin on her knees. Daniel could see his cum trickle out her pussy on to the couch her hair thick, long, and messy. Her brown skin was covered in the sheen of their sweat and fluids. Daniel’s cock stirred he walked over to Clara.



“Please let me fuck your ass.” he placed kisses on her feet and worked his way up her legs his blue eyes pleading for anal. “Please let me fuck it, just this once.” Their eyes met. Daniel made a boyish puppy face making Clara smile. Daniel reached under the couch pulling out a bottle. “I’ve got plenty of lube and I’ll try my best not to hurt you.” Clara didn’t say a word, she rolled over on all fours and stuck her butt in the air. Daniel moved behind her and squeezed lube out on his dick, he then lubed up his finger and shoved it up Clara’s ass.



“Fuck!! A little warning please.” Daniel laughed. He put a little more lube on her ass and pulled her cheeks apart. He pressed the head of his cock at her tight tiny brown opening. Clara screamed through her clenched teeth. Her eyes welled up.



“Are you okay?” she heard Daniel’s voice the pain dulled her senses making him sound distant. “



Mmmm hmm.” she groaned He pushed harder stretching her anus open to accommodate his dick he grabbed her hips. She wiggled and squirmed trying to pull away. “Uhhhh wait wait wait I changed my mind.” she managed to say.



“No I’m damn near in just relax.” Daniel firmly held Clara and continued to push her dick into her ass.



“Daniel you said you weren’t gonna hurt me.”



“I wouldn’t hurt you if you relax and just let me in.” Clara relax a bit and her anus eased open a bit for Daniel he slowly rocked in and out of her as she whimpered. “Sshhh” Daniel whispered in her ear as he slowly fucked her ass. They both soon began grunting like animals with each pump. Daniel slid his hand from her hip to her pussy and fingered her clit. Clara lost control she bounced her ass off his cock as she moaned.



“Oh Danny I’m gonna cum. Keep fucking my ass.” Daniel plunged in and out of her ass Clara came hard her ass clenched his cock as she moaned “Oh Daniel!”



Daniel couldn’t hold on any longer he exploded groaning. “Damn Clara!” His balls emptied into her ass. He collapsed on top of her and under his weight she collapsed on the couch. Their breathing slowed as Daniel pulled his spent cock from her ass. Clara relaxed as Daniel placed kisses all over her salty sweet skin ad cuddled her.



“I dreamed about this Clara.” He whispered as she fell asleep in his arms smiling.



“Me too Danny me too.”

I am a 6″1″, skinny, white, English schoolboy with messy dark brown hair named Geoff. Embarrassingly I am still a virgin at the age of 18 but I just say I’m picky. I attend a school in the North of England called St Aiden’s, which is what’s known as a ‘posh school’.



As I drove up to the school one morning I saw a large amount of people gathered in the courtyard, all dressed in home clothes. I soon realised it was the day of the annual trip to Glasgow which all geography students were forced to attend to somehow benefit the progress of their A-levels. I immediately noticed that this trip combined with the 6-hour art exam would mean there would be a very small amount of people in a lot of my lessons. Grinning from ear to ear, I jumped out of my red mini and waved at my friends who were ascending the steps of the geography trip bus. I galloped through the old school door and clambered up the 4 flights of stairs required to reach my common room. This brings me onto the subject of this story, Ellie Martin.



At 5″6″ she stood at about chin height on me, which I found perfect. She was bi racial, which meant that she had beautifully tanned skin. Her eyes were a gorgeous brown, squeaky-clean teeth and long flowing brown hair. Her body, in my opinion, was flawless. Although she did had a slightly larger figure this only enhanced her physical assets. Huge melons for boobs and an ass that I found my self staring at daily. This was all carried off with the sexiness of a model.



That morning I was met with the sight of her in a black sleeveless shirt with just the right amount of the buttons done up that was considered acceptable by the teachers but also enough for me to get a great look at her tits as they struggled against the shirt that barely contained them. I approached her in the tight corridor and was forced to open my body to her and stick to the wall to get past. However, as I did so Ellie stuck out her chest just a tad too much and I got a nice brush from her enormous jugs. She was unaware of the graze but it certainly had an impact on my virgin body.



My trousers began to protrude out in front of me and I was forced into an embarrassing hand-in-pocket situation in order to hide by hard on. Another thought of her huge tits would have made a mess on the school carpet. As I walked away, hand still in pocket, I turned round and saw an even more pleasing sight. A skin-tight skirt that gripped up to just below her ass! I looked on in awe as her ass moved and strained against the confines of that skirt. I saw the cheeks that I had had so many dre-



My back hit something hard and I immediately toppled over. Looking over behind me I saw a vast array of papers scattered all over the floor and my large French teacher on his back, still. I looked back over to Ellie. She was stood in the doorway to her common room looking back at me smiling sexily. I smiled back. After around 2 seconds I noticed her eyes were not on my face but on an object further down my body. My hand had fallen out of my pocket. Lying on my back with my boner reaching upwards must have given Ellie a pretty clear indication of how excited I was. Whether she knew what I was excited, for I was unsure of. After noticing me noticing her she winked and entered her door. Did someone way out of my league just look at me? I raised my fist into the air having triumphantly flirted for the first time in my life.



“What in God’s name are you so happy about, I could have died!!” my French teacher yelled in a, weirdly, thick Scottish accent. (I should clarify he was unable to see my crotch but saw the hand gesture).



“Nothing, sir, just having a great day” I grinned.



The first period was maths after which I had a sit out to revise in. I endured maths with the 4 other people that weren’t geographers or artists but managed to get through it utilising all the powers of my imagination. I imagined her bending down in front of me, her delectable ass pushing against the front of my trousers. I imagined her on top of me making out with me and worshipping my cock. Maths soon ended and because every person in my common room was away I was able to sit in my common room and let my hard on be free without having to lean forward or use the excesses of my shirt to cover my bulge.



Although I would have been happy to sit there all day and just think, exams were approaching and I needed some time dedicated to revision. Paper was required first. There was usually some lying around in the computer room but none today. This had me jumping for joy. This meant that I had to get more from where the paper was stored, and that place was the 6th form common room aka the home of the utterly breathtaking Ellie. Sprinting down the hall where a few stray papers from the earlier collision still remained, I crashed through the 6th form door.



“…hey…” I said gasping for air. She whipped her head round almost in slow motion, her hair flying behind her.



“oh… hi” she said smiling. Of course we’d never really been friends in her world, but in my dreams we were more than just friends.



“I need…” I pointed at the stack in the corner “…paper…”



“oh… Is that all?” she said disappointedly as he reached for the papers. Having regained my breath somewhat, I formed a proper sentence.



“yeah, gotta get some revision done.” I said straining to keep my eyes connected with hers as she leant over forwards for the paper, almost flaunting her voluptuous curves.



“ok what’s the revision on?”



“bit of everything really, I’m kind of struggling.” I was still keen on staying in the same room as her for as long as possible.



“Maybe… I can help?”



I stood slack jawed for a solid 4 seconds before snapping myself out of it and spluttering a “yes”. She giggled at my attempt at speech and passed me into the hallway, brushing her thigh against my zipper. I shuddered.



“ok but what about the 36? Surely that needs to be square rooted?”



“no because the X has no power above it.” She said smiling slightly.



“oh God I am an idiot. Sorry for this I know it’s a tad boring.”



“nah it’s fine. I was getting bored so its fun to hang out with someone so cute but also dumb.” She joked



“oi twat! I’m trying my hardest here!” I said in mock outrage.



She lightly punched me in the arm to which I responded with a punch or my own but slightly harder. She then pounced on me pinning me to the sofa we were doing work on. My first instinct had me resisting to which she laughed at. Being kind of lanky I was unable to lift her off me and she seemed like she was applying a lot of pressure to my arms. I soon realised that I was in an extremely advantageous position. Looking down the body that was currently straddling me I saw straight into the darkness of her cleavage and even saw the shades of the nipples. At this point I would have usually put my hands over my crotch to cover the inevitable boner but at that point I was unable to. I looked up at Ellie’s face and began squirming. I couldn’t have her getting a poke in the crotch from my little guy otherwise I would be the laughing stock of the school. I kicked and yelled at her to get off but she just thought it was all part of the game. I closed my eyes waiting for the inevitable penis to leg contact. And then it hit. The skin of her thigh felt wonderful against the trouser covered head of my penis but that was where the least amount of my attention was. I felt her grip relax and felt one of her hands leave my arm. Thinking that hand would be soon slapping me round the face, I clenched my face and flapped my free arm. I thought of how she would gossip to her friends and how they would gossip to theirs and how they would gossip to everyone else, with the lie getting more ridiculous with each person.



I felt her hand grab my face and my eyelids flew open. She sat over me, giggling sexily as my dick dragged further up her thigh meat towards her crotch. She leant her head down.



“Relax.”



She kissed me. It was gentle at first, like we were in love, and it soon started to grow in passion. My eyes were still open in shock as she ravaged my lips but I soon sank into it and closed my eyes. Her other hand reached for my face again and began holding it to hers just as her tongue started to invade my mouth. I too opened my mouth more and, with little to no experience, probed at this beauty’s mouth with my tongue in return. My hands were still above my head. After the shock of getting off with the fittest girl in school it was hardly surprising. Ellie, being experienced, soon realised my inexperience, grasped my hands, placed one on her back and one on her ass. Her ass… I was touching it. I dared myself to squeeze the juicy cheeks and succeeded. I was soon making her groan with the pressure I was putting on her huge ass and I could tell that she was ready to advance. She soon proved me right and dethatched herself from my lips.



Sitting up, still mounting me and with my hands still wandering over her ass, she ripped open her shirt revealing those two warlocks I had dreamed of restrained within a black lacy bra that looked way too small. I gripped her ass hard in reaction to the sight of them and after the bra had been flung to the other side of the room I grasped even harder, giving her a case of the giggles. I sat up on my hands and, without even asking for permission, stuck my face in between her tits and compressed her melons against my hungry face. I heard vague moans from above me but all I was really focused on was tanned funbags I had my face squished between.



After a good 2 minutes of praising her humungous chest, I felt her hands push me back onto the sofa. Upon falling back she dismounted me.



“you’re going to LOVE this.” She said with a wink as she turned around.



I lay back with my hands behind my head as she slowly lowered the zipper on her skirt. Inch by inch I saw more and more flesh and soon realised that she was wearing a thong. As I sat there gasping with excitement, Ellie lowered the skirt over the bulge of her butt, bending over just to emphasise the size. She then turned round and strutted up to me until she was towering over a dazzled me.



“I’ve never tried a 69″ she said matter-of-factly “maybe you could be my first.”



With an open mouthed nod I indicated my enthusiasm and she immediately lost the thong giving me a clear view of what her beautiful thighs lead up to. A shaven cunt.



She straddled my face instantly, immediately coving my view of the outside world with her huge ass cheeks. I felt her hands wrestle with my trousers until both them and my boxers were pulled to my ankles as I felt a small breeze on the underside of my cock. I focused my attention on her vagina thinking the sooner I start the sooner she will. Taking a deep breath of pussy flavoured air I dived in with my unprepared tongue. I thought I’d make out with her pussy like I did with her earlier, and as soon as my lips wandered over her folds I received a groan of approval. I quickly brought my tongue into the mix, thrusting it into her sweet tasting hole. Her response was fast and I began to feel the wetness of Ellie’s mouth surrounding the head of my cock. Her lips were soft and caressed my dick at first. I continued to lick at her with my face in between her athletic bum cheeks. Her lips began bobbing on my cock a lot faster and I felt her tongue swirl over my head with every bob. I knew I was getting close. Grabbing hold of her mighty behind I, regretfully, pushed her off me and stood up.



“what’s wrong?” she asked kneeling down in front of me, looking up with a pout.



“I don’t wanna blow too soon.”



“Ahh, you want to fuck me first don’t you big boy?” she asked teasingly.



Already knowing the response she stood up and walked over to the sofa, over emphasising her ass movements. she gestured for me to sit in the centre of the sofa. I sprang over and jumped into the indicated spot. She confidently sat on my lap with her entrance poised over the head of my 8 inch prick. I looked up at her wondering what she was waiting for. She grabbed my face, pulled me into a hard kiss and began to sink down onto my length. The warmness of her cunt felt wonderful against my skin and I just sat, balls deep and locked in a passionate kiss with a girl straight from my fantasies. Her tits were crushed against my chest and I felt her nipples rubbing against my pecks. She soon began to rock on my ever so slightly. I could feel about an eight of my length enter and leave her with each rock but that was more than enough to keep me happy.



I grabbed hold of her ass and decided to take charge after a while. With a cheek in each hand I pulled Ellie up to just below the head of my cock and quickly dropped her. She groaned loudly, urging me on with the occasional “fuck me”. I repeated the pattern again and again getting more frantic with each drop. She soon began to relieve me of my lifting and started to raise and herself with her own athletic thighs onto my fully erect dick. The slapping of skin on skin soon filled the room and I was groaning at every drop. I muffled my own noises by stuffing one of Ellie’s massive tits into my mouth. My tongue swirling around her bronzed nipple causing a moan to shudder through her body.



Annoyingly she stood up.



“Babe. The ass please.”



I became less annoyed. She placed one hand on the sofa cushion next to me and used her other to slap her arse, inviting me in. I darted behind her and was greeted with the sight of a tight brown eye.



“you got any like… slippery stuff?” I asked



“nah babe, bareback please!” she said in a pleading tone



I didn’t want to hurt her so I spat on my cock and then on my finger, which I put in her ass hole and wiggled. Feeling satisfied that I wouldn’t rip her, I put my head at the entrance and pushed forward. I felt her resist but I knew she wanted it so I held the curve of her waist and pushed it back onto my dick as I pushed forward. “nggghhhhuuuuuhhh” she yelled, as my cock head slipped into her fat ass in an instant. I started forward again progressing inch by inch with her asshole becoming more and more stretched. I finally reached the hilt and again we just stood there enjoying the feeling. I leant forward and rested on her back. She turned her head and I my lips were met by hers. We shared a passionate lustful kiss both really going at each other’s mouths. I flapped my arms around her body, until I reached her dangling tits. Caressing them I kissed down Ellie’s neck and the top of her back. I started to pump. At first slowly, only doing about a quarter of my length. With each thrust I pulled out more of my length, which was then immediately stuffed back in. When I reached my full length I went for it. I pushed with all my might into her ass over and over, pounding her and demolishing her hole. She screamed with every thrust but still begged me for more. My balls were slapping against her vagina with every thrust and I could tell she had orgasmed at least three times. I leaned over again grasping her tits roughly, our sweaty bodies meeting in a cucoon of lust. She begged me to come inside her. After 20 minutes I fulfilled her wish. I shot gallons of jizz, filling her anus to the brim after which she shuddered to an orgasm too.



We collapsed together, my slightly deflated penis still half inside her in the spooning position.



“Not bad for a first timer” she said, out of breath.

Chapter 02: Kunis in Soho



Viola and Patrick were standing on line in a Starbucks. The relationship that started between them months ago was now a friendship. They hadn’t been physical in over a month but it didn’t seem to bother either one of them. Patrick would flirt with her in the office and when no one was paying attention and he’d always find a way to grab Viola’s ass. Viola no longer protested any of Patrick’s advances; she would just blush and smile at him. The better they got along the better they worked together and the firm definitely noticed.



“Cake pop?” Patrick suggested looking at the pastries on display.



“I’m not interested in popping anything into my mouth besides coffee.” Viola replied.



“Really, so there’s nothing else that you’d like to pop in your mouth?” Patrick smiled.



Viola looked at him and returned the smile. When she turned away she could feel his eyes on her. Patrick was roaming his eyes all over Viola. She had on snug-fitting gray slacks and a low-cut black blouse on, her hair was pulled back into a bun and she wore 3-inch heels today, making her 5 foot 2 inches; Patrick was turned on by her professional look.



“Maybe you would like to pop something into my mouth.” She said to Patrick while turning towards the cashier. “2 double tall vanilla lattes, please.” She ordered. Patrick paid and they moved over to wait for their drinks.



Patrick leaned over and whispered “It’s been a while since I’ve fucked that cute little asshole of yours.”



Viola nodded in agreement.



“Maybe we can go to the bathroom real quick so I can see if it’s still my tight chocolate butthole. Is it still my butthole?”



Viola Jean raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Mr. Slater, it is yours, if you want it to be. No one has or ever will fuck my ass but you.”



Patrick patted her butt softly. He gazed into Viola’s eyes until someone else had caught his attention; Mila Kunis strolled into the store. Viola noticed the change in Patrick’s gaze and turned around to see who had caught his attention.



“Oh my God, that’s Mila Kunis!” Viola tried her best to whisper so that attention would not be drawn to the actress.



Patrick and Viola stood at the end of the counter waiting for their drinks and watched as Mila placed her order and then walked towards them to wait for her drink. Viola smiled and Mila returned the smile.



“Hello Ms. Kunis. You’re so pretty in person.” Viola managed to say to her.



Mila smiled more. “Thank you.” She extended her hand out and Viola met hers and they shook hands.



“My name’s Viola and this is my boss Patrick Slater, he’s quite a fan of yours.” Viola announced smiling at Patrick.



Mila raised an eyebrow, looked at Patrick, and smiled “Really?”



Patrick blushed shyly and nodded. “Yes, I’d like to buy you a cake pop or dinner perhaps?”



Mila flashed Patrick a smile that spread across her face as her eyes twinkled. “Sure, how about we double date? You, me, and I’ll bring a guy for your adorable assistant.”



“Oh, that’s sweet of you but you guys go have fun, besides I’m married.”



Mila smiled “We can all have fun. Either you come with your hubster or I’ll bring someone to hang with you but I rarely get to hang out with a group of people and have group fun so I’d appreciate it if you join us.” Mila’s eyes seemed to be pleading.



Viola couldn’t resist, she glanced over at Patrick who nodded and smiled at her. “Sure. Why not? You bring someone for me but make sure he knows I’m married and not interested.” She conceded.



They arranged a time to meet that evening at the Soho Grand and find a close restaurant nearby. Patrick and Viola watched Mila as she left Starbucks.



“She’s so hot, I’d like to fuck her in the ass while she eats your pussy.” Patrick whispered to Viola. Viola’s eyes popped open at the thought. Patrick slid his hand to Viola’s plump ass and gave it a squeeze.



Viola sat in the lobby of the Soho Grand, she was the first to arrive. She wore tight denim capri pants with sneakers and a tight fitted pink tank top. She had her thick black hair down and straight. She watched the main entrance waiting for Patrick or Mila to show up. 10 Minutes later Patrick walked into the lobby; Viola had never seen him so casual. Patrick wore a regular t shirt and regular khaki shorts with sneakers, covering his eyes were simple black framed sunglasses he looked like a typical college frat boy. When he noticed Viola, a small grin appeared on his face.



Viola smiled as her boss walked towards her. “Mr. Slater, you look handsome and casual this evening.”



“Thank you Mrs. Ramsden. You look adorable as always, stand up and let me see how your tight little ass looks in those jeans.”



Viola was about to stand up when she noticed a bellhop running towards them.



“Excuse me but are the two of you waiting for Ms. Kunis?”



Patrick nodded at the young man who was probably shared the same age as him.



“She wants y’all to come to her room upstairs.”



The bellhop led Viola and Patrick to the elevator and up to Mila’s room. He knocked on the door for them and stood as if waiting for a tip. Patrick dug into his pocket and pulled out a 20 for the young man and handed it to him. The bellhop left them just as the door opened. Mila greeted the couple with her famous smile; her long wavy dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, she wore cotton shorts and a loose fitting but clingy camisole. Patrick gave Mila a once over, he could make out the gentle curve of her breasts.



“Welcome and come in.” Mila smiled as she moved to the side for them to enter her suite.



Viola Jean looked around in amazement. “This place is beautiful. May I ask why you are here? I thought you had an apartment in the city.”



“My place is being fumigated and I have a relationship sort of with this hotel so I figure I’ll stay here for a few days. Sorry Viola but the guy that was supposed to join us flaked.” She walked over to a mini bar and prepared a drink. Patrick wandered to the couch and turned on the television.



“Oh ok that’s cool. Y’all have a good time and I’ll head home.”



“No don’t go! Please stay, three’s company.” Mila insisted as she joined Patrick on the couch. Viola Jean didn’t even look at Patrick this time. She sat in the side chair and looked straight at the television.



“So where are we gonna go eat?” Patrick asked.



“Well I don’t really know why we don’t just hang out here if I can get friends to come over maybe we’ll have a little party.” Mila turned her attention to Viola. “So Viola, are you one of those assistants that fuck her boss?” Viola’s face froze in shock, Patrick laughed. “It’s okay with me but I just wanted to confirm my suspicions.”



Viola looked at Patrick. Patrick glanced at Viola and turned his attention to Mila.



“We’ve never fucked, there is just a lot of sexual tension between us.” Patrick lied.



Mila looked at Patrick from the corner of her eyes smirking. She could tell that there was definitely a secret between them. Viola stayed silent and tried her best to watch whatever was on television. Patrick changed the subject and began to have small talk with Mila. He had traveled just as much as she has and to some of the same places. Viola Jean started to feel a bit left out and jealous that they were conversing so easily. She got up and prepared herself to leave.



As she headed to the door Mila called for her. “Where are you going Viola? Are we not entertaining enough for you? Come back I’ll make you a drink.”



Viola stood by the door. “You two seem to be hitting it off and I wanted to leave y’all alone.”



Mila giggled as she headed to the minibar. “Alone? To do what? Don’t be silly, there’s nothing I want to do with your boss that would require you leaving.” Mila mixed Viola Jean a drink and walked it over to her. “Come back, it’s early and we haven’t eaten. I know you feel like the third wheel but hey you need 3 wheels for a tricycle right?”



Viola Jean took the drink and smiled at Mila’s kind words. As she sipped it, it seemed to burn the throat at first but then started to warm her up.



“What is this?”



“Oh it’s a drink they make back home overseas. There’s no name, it’s just a mixture of different types of alcohol. You like it? It’s relaxing huh?”



Viola nodded and continued to drink it. The girls joined Patrick on the couch, one sitting on each side of him. Mila watched Viola from the corner of her eye as the chocolate-skinned beauty was downing the remainder of her beverage. She could see that the concoction she made was taking over.



“Patrick, isn’t Viola just gorgeous?” she asked suddenly with a Cheshire Cat grin.



Patrick looked at his assistant up and down and smiled “Yeah she’s pretty hot.”



Mila shook her head “No she’s more than hot. Look at her skin! It’s like looking at warm milk chocolate and those matching brown eyes.” Viola blushed. “Why don’t you sit on Patrick’s lap?” Mila suggested.



Viola, confused, positioned herself onto Patrick’s lap. Patrick rested his right hand on her knee, Mila placed her hand on top of his. She locked eyes with Viola and smiled. Before anyone could say anything Mila moved in and kissed Viola on the lips. Mila’s tongue slipped between Viola’s parted lips. Patrick sat and watched the two women make out in front of him. Viola was causing friction against his bulging and almost painful erection as she sat on Patrick’s lap while attacking Mila’s sweet mouth. Viola Jean kissed Mila on her cheek then her chin and along her neck. Mila tossed her head back in pleasure and made eye contact with Patrick. Viola’s face was nestled in Mila’s neck, kissing and nibbling her flesh. Viola trailed her tongue along Mila’s collarbone; she smelled like strawberries and tasted just as sweet. She knew Patrick was there but didn’t care. Her body was on fire.



“Let’s leave your boss out here for a while and go into the bedroom” Mila purred as Viola Jean placed tiny kisses around her neck. Mila rose from the couch, took Viola Jean’s hand, and gently pulled her off of Patrick’s lap. “Be a good boy and wait about 15 minutes before interrupting us. Ok Patrick?”



Patrick was awe struck as he watched the famous actress lead his black secretary to the bedroom. Viola Jean groped Mila from behind while following her. Once in the bedroom Mila became more aggressive; she pressed her body against hers and began sucking on her lips.



“I’ve never been with a female before.” Viola confessed once Mila’s mouth separated from hers.



Mila kissed Viola hard and moved her to the bed. Viola lay on her back, Mila unzipped her pants and pulled them off of her. She moved on top of Viola and kissed her again; her hands sipped under Viola’s tank top to caress her breasts. The girls rolled around on the bed like horny teenagers. Groping and pawing at each other, moaning in ecstasy.



The sounds coming from the bedroom was too much for Patrick. With the bedroom door left ajar he decided to peek in on them. Hand on his cock, he watched the lovely ladies enjoy themselves passionately kissing and embracing each other. He heard the familiar sound of Viola Jean in pleasure, her legs were wrapped around Mila’s waist and Patrick could see her humping at Mila. Pulling his dick out he began to stroke it as Viola pulled at Mila’s jeans, helping her wiggle out of them. Mila got off of Viola Jean and took off her panties quickly. Patrick smiled while Viola started to take off her own panties as well. Mila stopped her with a kiss and removed the chocolate beauty’s panties. Patrick jerked himself slowly, anticipating what was coming next. Mila positioned Viola intertwining her legs. At first Mila’s wet pussy was pressed against Viola Jeans thigh, then she angled Viola so that her damp slit pressed against Viola’s. Slowly, she rubbed herself against Viola Jean. Viola moaned as she felt Mila’s wetness glide over hers. Their clits bumped; Viola’s body was on fire as Mila slowly tribbed her.



Patrick walked into the room. “I don’t like the idea of you seducing my secretary.”



Mila didn’t stop humping Viola, she just glanced over at Patrick as he stood bed side. “I’m not seducing her, I’m fucking her! There’s a big difference.”



Patrick smiled looking down at Viola’s sweet face overwhelmed with pleasure. “Yes, there definitely is a difference. You seem to be doing a good job of it too. I’m actually a bit jealous of you both.”



Viola reached up and gently kneaded Mila’s breast. She lightly grazed her pink nipple with her index finger. Viola continued to massage the warm soft flesh while trying to meet Mila’s thrusts. Patrick reached down at Viola and stroked her cheek.



“You should fuck her after I make her cum.” Mila insisted.



Viola moaned at the idea. She removed her hand from Mila’s breast and reached towards Patrick’s pants. Patrick took the hint and started removing his clothing. His hard-on was free from the zipper of his jeans and he stroked himself while the ladies continued to trib. Patrick could see Viola was close to cumming when her eyes rolled in the back of her head, Mila’s movements seemed so fluid. The sounds of their warm wet mounds kissing as they slid against each other filled the air along with the feminine moans. Mila looked down at the black beauty and bit her own lip as she began fucking Viola harder, smacking and pounding her pussy.



Every movement made both women feel as if they were about to burst. Patrick was hypnotized watching Mila’s ass move back and forth and roll around pleasuring Viola. He wanted to join them badly but didn’t want to interrupt the beautiful sight. Viola began to cum hard; she sat up and embraced Mila, their pussies pressed, breasts and mouths pressed together. Viola ran her fingers through Mila’s hair; legs intertwined, they grinded against each other. Their tongues entered each other’s mouths, finding one another, moaning from the pleasure coming from their hot wet sensitive mounds.



Mila broke the kiss “Oh my God Viola!” she screamed as she came. Viola continued to grind against her the way Mila did to her; Mila’s moans became animalistic. The two females were locked in a tight embrace as they came down from their orgasmic high.



Patrick watched as his secretary placed kisses on the actress’ face they cuddled each other smiling. “Ahem, I hate to interrupt this heavenly display of female fornication but I’d like to be pleasured also.”



Mila and Viola were dazed, staring into each other’s eyes smiling and paying no attention to Patrick’s statement.



Viola kissed Mila sweetly on the lips. “I’ve never been with a female before. I’ve been curious but never thought I’d ever get the chance.”



Mila smiled. “I must admit that I did put a little ‘extra something’ in your drink to relax you and make you more willing.”



“I figured that much because I didn’t feel drunk, I felt high but I felt good too.”



The bed shook a bit as Patrick joined them.



“I think your boss is feeling left out.” Mila said as she gently untangled herself from Viola.



Viola nodded in agreement, got up, and knelt on the bed facing Patrick. She pulled him towards her and pressed her lips against his. Attacking his mouth she captured his bottom lip between her teeth and gently bit him, making him smile. Viola’s kissing was interrupted feeling Mila’s mouth placing kisses on her back, her hands sliding along her body stroking her every curve. Viola’s hand drifted to Mila’s body but was quickly removed by Mila and placed back onto Patrick.



“Guess you should focus on me.” Patrick said. He ran his hands through her thick hair and pulled her to him until their lips met. His tongue swept inside her mouth as he sucked her top lip. Viola pulled back a bit knowing Patrick enjoyed the game of cat and mouse when kissing her. He captured her mouth again, she tasted sweet like the drink she consumed. Viola giggled, as they kissed Mila had squeezed her way underneath her and was now kissing her inner thighs. Patrick stopped kissing Viola and looked down to see Mila’s eyes staring back at him.



Mila smiled “You know you guys look really cute together.” Patrick smiled and nodded his head as he watched the actress lift her head and kissed the silken folds of Viola’s moist pussy. He looked at Viola’s face as Mila continued her kissing; each time she kissed her longer and longer letting her mouth linger against her throbbing snatch, he smiled. Her eyes were half closed in a dreamlike state, her mouth slightly ajar, and her full lips forming a small o.



“Do you like it?” Patrick asked cupping Viola’s breasts and massaging her nipples lightly with his thumbs. Viola nodded. Mila pressed her mouth against Viola one last time and then slid her tongue deep into her pussy. Her lips sucking on her clit, her tongue sweeping the inside of her slippery womanhood and her hands firmly grasping Viola’s tight round ass. Viola humped her mouth gently, her hips rocked slowly back and forth as she rode Mila’s expert tongue. Viola’s nipples became taunt buds against Patrick’s thumbs. The girls changed their position. Viola Jean laid on her back while Patrick straddled her face and fucked her mouth and Mila buried her face between Viola’s sweet snatch. Mila’s tongue teased and circled Viola’s clit; Viola wanted to grab Mila and fuck her face but could only reach Patrick’s toned ass and pushed him deeper into her mouth. Her moans vibrated along his shaft as she felt Mila’s tongue take long licks tasting Viola from her ass to her clit. She was able to snake her hands between Patrick’s legs to play with Viola’s taunt nipples. Her hands kneaded her chocolate-coated breasts, pinching at her tight nubs; Viola groaned at Mila’s manipulation of her body. She held off her orgasm trying her best to concentrate on sucking Patrick’s delicious cock into her mouth, her tongue encircled his shaft squeezing his dick against the roof of her mouth. Patrick managed to look down at the petite beauty, Viola locked eyes with him as he fucked her tiny mouth. He quickly broke eye contact, not wanting to explode into her mouth just yet. He angled his head to catch the sight of Mila’s face buried in Viola’s thighs and feasting on her like a delectable dish.



Mila lifted her head up from Viola she smiled at Patrick as she licked her lips “Mmmmm she is delicious.”



Patrick raised an eyebrow and smirked as his secretary’s tongue lapped at his balls. Mila slid two fingers deep inside Viola and maintained eye contact with Patrick as she finger-fucked the petite chocolate girl. She removed her hand, her fingers slick with Viola’s juice, and offered them to Patrick’s mouth. He sucked them into his mouth; he wasn’t big on eating pussy but didn’t hesitate to suck Viola’s juices off Mila’s fingers. She was delicious, mild and sweet, He could feel Viola lips kiss his finely haired firm nutsack, she tickled his testes with her tongue. Mila watched his face for a reaction as he licked her fingers clean and smiled. “She tastes so good Patrick you should try her. You know you want to. Let her sit on your face while I sit on your dick.” Those words cut through Patrick like a knife. As soon as Viola took him back into her mouth he grabbed her head shoved his cock deep down her throat and exploded.



“Shit!” exclaimed Patrick.



Viola gagged and eyes watered as strands of cum shot past her tongue. Viola felt his grip on her head soften and pulled away from him coughing. Mila swiftly moved towards her and covered Viola’s mouth with hers. She breathed air into her lungs as her tongue swept through Viola’s mouth searching for traces of Patrick’s cum. Viola could taste her own juices from Mila’s mouth. She couldn’t believe how good her own pussy tasted. The two girls fed from each other’s mouths as Patrick watched while recovering from his orgasm. He stroked himself as the girls played tonsil hockey right in front of him. The scene before him brought back another erection. Viola broke the kiss between herself and Mila when she noticed out of the corner of her eye Patrick was ready to go again. Mila motioned him to lie down and he obliged. Viola straddled Patrick’s face, her pussy hovering inches away from his mouth. She was motionless as she watched Mila leave the room and then return with a little bottle. “What do you have there?”

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